


A History of Light

by Spiner909



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ala Mhigo (Final Fantasy XIV), Azim Steppe (Final Fantasy XIV), Backstory, Blood and Violence, Gridania (Final Fantasy XIV), Making my WoL an actual character, Morals and values, Spoilers up to Stormblood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 75,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27773266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiner909/pseuds/Spiner909
Summary: The Warrior of Light visits Fordola in her prison cell. Curious, she asks how a little girl grows up to become a god-slayer, and listens to her story...Contains spoilers for Stormblood content up to patch 4.5
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Year 3 of the Seventh Astral Era - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This story contains spoilers for story content up to patch 4.5 (post-Stormblood content).

**Year 3 of the Seventh Astral Era**

Under the cloudy skies of Gyr Abania, an Auri woman in red strode through the streets of Ala Mhigo, her boots tapping along the cobblestones as she went. The city that had been filled with an oppressive air of silence and distrust for twenty years of occupation was unfamiliar with its newfound freedom, and the usual bustling activity one would expect from a major city was noticeably lessened. The woman saw the city's story painted in the expressions of the residents she passed. There was an old woman, who had seen the city change hands some four times in her lifetime. Her doubt was palpable as she examined the passing Auri, surely recognizing the garb of her homeland's red mages. She had severed Garlemald's grip on the region, but would it last?

In the faces of the group of children she passed, she saw the embers of curiosity. It still hadn't fully set in for them - that they were allowed to run and play now, that it was safe to sing and ask and laugh. In the eyes of a market guard, she saw contempt - not for her, but for the children. The rage, the injustice that the spawn of the wretches who betrayed Ala Mhigo should share in the fruits of her liberation.

When she arrived at her destination, the woman offered the Resistance guard a tip of her feathered chapeau. She could not see his face beneath the griffon mask, but she saw it in his body language after he snapped to attention, saluting her. His head was raised high - he was proud, grateful that he had lived to see his homeland freed. He expressed to her as much, thanking the Warrior of Light for all that she had done, declaring what an honor it was to fight alongside her. She simply offered a silent smile and a nod, having endured a half dozen such encounters from her walk from the aetheryte plaza alone. Unlocking the door with his keys, the guard opened the way for her and held the door as she walked inside, stepping outside and locking it again when she had gone.

Her footsteps echoed softly inside the claustrophobic walls of the gaol. Most of the cells had been emptied - the deserters had been punished or pardoned, while the imperial prisoners had been transferred elsewhere. This particular gaol was only being used for a handful of prisoners, those too problematic to move. Another resistance guard saluted her as arrived at the last cell.

"I'd like to speak with her alone, please," she said softly.

"Err," the guard grimaced, nervously gripping his wrist. "I'm, ah, supposed to keep constant watch over the prisoner, ma'am..."

A rough voice from within the dark cell sighed bitterly.

"She's the bloody Warrior of Light, you daft sod," the voice said. "Savior of your whole damn nation, in case you had forgotten."

"You-" a flash of anger raced through the guard's eyes, before he remember who's presence he was in. "Right. I'll just...go wait outside."

The Warrior offered another silent nod in gratitude, watching as the soldier passed, waiting for the _thud_ of the heavy door to close before she advanced to the thick iron bars of the cell, peering inside.

"Morning, Fordola," the Warrior said, tipping her hat to the woman's shadowy silhouette. "It's awfully dark in there. I can get them to hang a lantern, if you like."

"Get to the point," Fordola sighed bitterly. "What d'you want? Here for more interrogation?"

"I wouldn't have sent the guard away if that were the case, would I?" the Warrior smiled sadly. "No, I just wanted to talk to you, I think." 

"You think?" Fordola scoffed. "Couldn't make up your mind?"

"I wanted to thank you," the Warrior continued. "For standing with us, against Lakshmi."

"Y'seemed to be doing just fine without me," Fordola shrugged. "I bet you could have killed it on your own."

"I _know_ I could have killed it on my own," the Warrior acknowledged. "That was a weak incarnation, bereft of significant crystals. But I couldn't have done it while protecting a dozen people besides. You played your part, Fordola, and you saved innocents from enslavement to a goddess of lies and delusion. So for that, I'll thank you."

"I didn't do it for you," Fordola spat.

"And?" the Warrior asked, folding her arms. "Do you think I did it for you? Or for myself?"

"Of course not," the Warrior continued, shaking her head. "You did it for Ala Mhigo. For her people, and for the ideal you hope for them to become. As did I. And that illustrates a key difference between you and Zenos. For all of his might, Zenos never fought for someone other than himself. Not once. So I'll thank you to just take the bloody compliment, you stubborn arse!"

Gritting her teeth, Fordola clenched her fist as she prepared to fire back, but her words failed her. Deep down, she knew her words were true - but she didn't want to admit that, for it would be like her declaring there was still some kernel of goodness left in her.

And she knew she didn't deserve that. Not after all she had done.

"Gods damn it, fine," she sighed in defeat. "If it'll get you to piss off...you're welcome. Satisfied?"

"Good enough," the Warrior smiled. Changing positions, she walked over to the wall just next to the cell's metal bars, leaning against it and bracing herself with one foot. 

"There was something else I wanted to ask," she continued. "The last time I was here, we each had a vision of the other. I saw you in your youth. And you...what did you experience?"

Fordola slunk down against the wall, tilting her head up to look at the ceiling. She was quiet for a long while before she deigned to answer.

"Flashes," she murmured. "Fragments. Places and people I don't recognize. A banquet, and then a tunnel. A woman in blue, and a great white dragon. A clockwork giant. Rhalgr's Reach, and...the Royal Menagerie."

"The visions are messy," Fordola continued. "I'm not even sure when they're in the right order. And they just...fire off whenever they damn well please. I tried to stop them, to hold them back...but it's like trying to hold back the tides. Does...did it get better? Were you like this?"

"I first experienced the Echo when I was a young girl," the Warrior nodded. "It started happening when I was asleep. My parents thought me just prone to a vivid imagination....until I started knowing people and places I shouldn't have. Then the 'dreams' started happening when I was awake, too. Never really pieced together everything until I met the Scions, though."

"I can't claim that it'll happen to you," she continued. "But yes, it got better. My visions were never as chaotic as what you describe, but when I felt the pull of a memory, it was like I was being sucked in. I couldn't fight it. Now, though...hmm, how to describe it? It's sort of like sensing a...string. Something I can choose to pull on. Immersing myself, rather than drowning in that painful headache of overstimulation."

"You should close your eyes, by the way," the Warrior suggested. "When you feel the pull. Plug your ears, pinch your nose. If you can't resist the memories, then block out your own senses while you wait for it to pass."

"That helps?" Fordola asked.

"It did for me," the Warrior shrugged. "I can't say I know anyone else with an artificial facsimile of the Echo, so I can only guess that your 'Resonance' functions similarly. All I can say is, it's like swimming. Sometimes a pull is so strong, it's like it's _demanding_ I allow it access. Go with the flow - don't fight against the current, or you'll just exhaust yourself."

"I see," Fordola said. "I'll...I'll try that."

The cell fell silent for several minutes after that. There was barely a sound between them, save for the clinking of Fordola's chains, and the tap of the Warrior's boots as she shifted her position.

"By the by," the Warrior said, finally breaking the silence. "What do you know about the Au Ra?"

"The Au Ra?" Fordola repeated. "Little and less. I know they come from the East, that their men are much larger than their women. And I know you're one of them. Why suddenly ask me about that?"

"I don't really know," the Warrior confessed. "I was thinking of something to talk about, and that slipped into my mind. You mentioned seeing places from my past, but not the Steppe."

"I know it's a big, flat grassland," Fordola shrugged. "That's about it."

"I remember you asking me how I was so strong," the Warrior nodded. "How I could bear it all."

"You're saying it has something to do with the Steppe?" Fordola asked.

"Much and more," the Warrior smiled. "Would you like to hear a story?"

"What is this," Fordola said, making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort, "a daycare? Doesn't the Warrior of Light have better things to do than tell stories to prisoners?"

"I can leave if you like," the Warrior shrugged. "But if I were in your position, I imagine I'd be bored senseless."

Stretching out her back, Fordola waited a moment before giving an answer.

"Aye," she admitted. "You're not wrong. Half the time my senses are bombarded with memories and feelings not my own, and the other is just silent _bloody_ darkness. If you really want to flap your jaw that badly, I'll welcome the distraction. I won't pretend I'm not curious...I want to know how a woman gets so strong that she dismisses the killing of a god by calling it a _weak incarnation._ "

"Well I _am_ the Eikon-slayer", the Warrior grinned. "It's sort of what I do. But if you want to know where I got my strength, you should know where I came from."

"The Steppe, wasn't it?" Fordola asked. "Didn't you immigrate to Eorzea and become an adventurer to seek your fortune?"

"Is _that_ what the Empire's file on me says?" the Warrior laughed. "I thought they were more thorough than that. But no, I was born in Gridania. In fact, I only set foot in the Steppe for the first time but a handful of months ago."

The Warrior glanced inside the cell, noticing how Fordola had adjusted her posture, sitting more attentively in a cross-legged position.

"Piqued your interest, have I?" the Warrior smiled. "Then I'll tell you about my family's history. But if I'm going to keep calling you Fordola, then I think it's only fair that I share my name."

"I'd know who you were, even without imperial intelligence," Fordola shrugged. "Even the imperial censors gave up trying to block out mention of you. I doubt there's anyone in the whole bloody realm that doesn't know of Sarika Malaguld, the vaunted Warrior of Light."

"Mayhaps," Sarika humbly acknowledged. "Sarika is my individual name. Malaguld, my family name. And before I was the Eikon slayer, before I was the Warrior of Light, or a Scion, or even an adventurer...I was just a girl."

Sarika trailed off, lost in her thoughts for a moment.

"Right then," she nodded, snapping her fingers. "I'll start at the beginning, shall I? Our tale begins at the doorstep of my great-grandfather, in a Raen city called Nagohama, nearly seventy-five years ago..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: "There are decades where nothing happens, and weeks where decades happen." - Vladimir Lenin 
> 
> I'm dividing this story into chapters by the year that the events took place. Some chapters are going to be vastly longer than others and very important years have been split into several parts. The timeline in FFXIV is deliberately ambiguous, but in my mind the events from ARR to Stormblood surely are at least 3 years. There's no exact dates so I've just made up years I thought would fit for the Sixth Astral Era. As a reminder, calendars cycle between Astral and Umbral whenever the world suffers a calamitous disaster, and later recovers from it.
> 
> Some art of my character if you'd like to see what she looks like: https://i.imgur.com/KzBAIvj.jpg


	2. Year 1495 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1495 of the Sixth Astral Era**

Stifling a yawn, an Auri man set down his quill, raising his arms and stretching out his tired shoulders and back. The mountain of paperwork strewn across his desk had been read, categorized, signed, and organized into neat stacks. A fine day's work, for a thoroughbred bureaucrat such as himself.

"There's always more," the man sighed, eyeing the last few files that had yet remained untouched. It was a tempting thought to leave the remainder for the morrow, but he rolled his shoulders, shook out his hands, and took up his quill again, resolved to see the task to completion - until two sharp knocks at the door drew his attention.

"A visitor at this hour?" he pondered aloud. As he stood up and pushed his chair in, a feminine voice called out from the adjacent room.

"Were you expecting company, dear?" his wife asked.

"No," he replied. "Just a minute, I'll go see who it is."

Taking a moment to brush off any stray crumbs from his tunic and making sure he was presentable, the man cleared his throat and opened the front door to his home. Shivering as the cold, foggy air of the valley rushed inside, he blinked at his visitor, requiring a moment to process what he was seeing.

"Jin-sama?" he gawped, before quickly offering his superior a sharply inclined bow. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"At ease, Hanchin, at ease," his visitor chuckled, his voice a deep, earthy boom. "T'is not bureaucracy that brings me to your doorstep - though I must confess, it is quite a fine one!"

It was then that Hanchin noticed that his superior - the Minister of Sciences for the royal court at which he was employed - was carrying a small bundle of cloth in his arms, clutched close to his chest.

"Is that...?" he started.

"A newborn," Jin nodded, looking down at the gentle rise and fall of the cloth. "Aye, and an abandoned one at that. Left at my own doorstep not but an hour ago. My servant told me he saw but a shadow dashing away - a beggar, perhaps."

"I see," Hanchin nodded. "But why bring it here?"

"Well," Jin started, shuffling his feet and adjusting his posture, "I was just going to have my servant deliver the child to the orphanage, but then I recalled you mentioning that you and your wife were trying for a child of your own, without success for quite some time. I suppose I thought I would ask if you wanted this child?"

Hanchin could only blink, too surprised to answer.

"Ah," Jin grinned sheepishly. "Yes, I suppose that's quite the sudden thing to force upon you. Well, far be it from me to implore you to make a decision now. If you decline, you can simply give him to the orphanage on the middle level. You know the way, yes?"

"Ah...yes?" Hanchin muttered. "I pass by on the way to the market."

"Good, good," Jin nodded. "Well then! Here, take him."

Jin passed over the bundled child to his subordinate, who meekly took him into his own arms without protest.

"Confer with your wife and come to a decision," Jin said. "And try to get some sleep, eh? You look dreadfully tired."

"Err..." Hanchin looked down at the child in his arms - still asleep - and then back up to Jin. "Yes, of course...I'll certainly try."

Satisfied, Jin offered a wave and turned away, stepping back onto the empty city streets and making his way to the upper level of the city. Closing the door, Hanchin ambled back into his home, sitting down on a floor mat and resting his back against the wall. His wife appeared from the other room, sitting on her knees next to him.

"You heard, then?" he asked, looking up at her face for an answer.

Nodding, she shifted over next to her husband, looking down at the child. Reaching out a finger, she brushed his forehead, smiling as the child enjoyed a peaceful slumber.

"Unwanted and unloved," she sighed, slinking back. "T'is a horribly cruel thing, to abandon a child in such a way."

"Aye," Hanchin agreed. The two were quiet for a long time after that, simply being together in the silence of their home, watching the baby sleep.

"What do you think, love?" he asked, finally breaking the silence. "Do you want to adopt?"

"Maybe," his wife said softly. "In a sense, it feels like...giving up. Like I've failed."

"Don't look at it that way," Hanchin said, gently shaking his head. "We have been trying for some three years, now. I think it is time to accept that the kami did not plan for us to have our own child. And if the task is impossible, it cannot truly be called a failure, now can it?"

"No, perhaps not," she sighed. "It would be a just and benevolent act, to offer shelter to this unwanted child. Even if he was given to an orphanage, we cannot say that others would do the same. We have a chance to truly help this one. Mayhap it was no coincidence that the parent chose to leave their child upon Master Jin's doorstep..."

"Fate, then?" Hanchin concluded. "Mayhap it is..."

"Why don't we sleep on it?" she suggested. "I'll fetch some blankets to keep the little one warm. Let's make our decision in the morning."

"A fair suggestion," he nodded. "I'll go draw some water, then."

Passing the child to his wife, Hanchin got up, fetched a bucket, and went outside to the local water pump, which was only a minute's walk away. Grimacing as he touched the cold, metal handle, he drew up his sleeves, hiding his naked skin from the frigid surface as he pumped water into the container.

He smiled to himself as he moved. Deep in his heart, he already knew his answer. If this was indeed the kami's plan for him, then he would play his part gladly.

"A seeker of understanding's primary aim should always be to better the lives of his fellow men," he muttered to himself, repeating the Minister of Sciences's personal creed. Good words to live by - and what better way to honor them, than by applying them to his personal life?

Drawn out of his daydreams by a splosh, Hanchin looked down to see that he had overfilled the bucket with his mindless pumping. Picking it back up and heading home, he was sure that his wife shared a similar sentiment. He would give this child the opportunities that he was denied - that much, he promised to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have almost no information available about Raen civilizations and culture, outside of Sui-No-Sato. This is my interpretation of what such a 'reclusive civilization in the misty valleys' would be like, based on ancient-Renaissance era China, Japan, and Korea.


	3. Year 1502 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1502 of the Sixth Astral Era**

Two boys were jumping between cobblestones on the streets of Nagohama, specific patterns drawn in chalk to indicate which stones were part of their game.

"Watch this!" the taller one said, leaping from one to another, spinning around in midair. Landing clumsily, he stumbled and nearly span out of the marked circle, but managed to keep his balance.

"Three points!" he whooped, grinning and raising his arms behind his head.

"Yeah, that was pretty good," the shorter boy admitted. "But you need to stick out your tail more, Izu. It'll help you stay balanced."

"Does it?" Izu questioned. "Let's see you do it, Koretomo."

Bending his knees, Koretomo pushed off with his legs and repeated his friend's jump, spinning in midair with his tail extended straight from his body. He wobbled a bit on his landing, but stuck the landing well.

"I should get four points, since I didn't stumble," he grinned proudly.

"Whatever," Izu said, rolling his eyes. "I could do it, too. Did your dad teach you that, or what?"

"No, I just figured it out by practicing it," Koretomo explained. "It works 'cause it helps balance out your weight, 'cause of gravity and stuff."

"Right, gravity," Izu said, nodding sagely. "I knew that."

"No you didn't," Koretomo frowned.

Crossing his arms, Izu was about to counter him, when a familiar pair of adults rounded the city corner.

"Oh!" Koretomo blinked in surprise, placing his hands on his knees and offering a respectful bow. "Hi, Jin-san. Hello, father."

Turning to look at this friend, Koretomo's brow twitched in annoyance, and he elbowed Izu in his side.

"You have to bow, stupid!" he muttered. Izu grumbled back in annoyance, but bowed as well.

"It's quite alright, boys," Jin chuckled, reaching down to pat both of them on the head. "Koretomo, your father and I were just heading home for the day anyway. Tell me, boys, have you ever heard of geomancy?"

"Geomancy?" Izu blinked. "Isn't that the magic that lets you control the earth?"

"Yeah, but it's not just the earth," Koretomo added. "It's the air, and the water too! People who do it are called geomancers."

"Yes, very good!" Jin smiled. "Today, the academy hosted a lecture on geomancy. You know, once you boys are old enough, you could get tested and see if you have any aptitude for it."

"Hrm, what was the usual age that the guild tests children?" Jin asked, turning to Koretomo's father. "I can't recall."

"Eight, I believe," Hanchin nodded. "T'is but a few months, for these two."

"Sometimes, if I think really hard, I can make a pebble move without touching it," Izu claimed. "D'ya think that's geomancy? Wow, that would be great, wouldn't it?"

"I want to try!" Koretomo grinned, bouncing with excitement. "But what I've always really wanted the most is to go to the academy like my dad. To read all the books and meet with the super smart people, and solve problems and stuff like that."

"Is that so?" Jin chuckled. "Quite the young philanthropist you've raised, Hanchin! But study hard, boys, and you may very well earn your place there. Not just anyone is allowed in, you know."

"I'll work hard!" Koretomo nodded. "Promise!"

"We'll see if your tone changes when you learn about the entrance exam," his father smiled wryly. "Anyway, we'll be off now. You boys hurry home before it gets dark, understand?"

"Yup!" both of the boys promised, the adults walking off further down the street.

"Can you really move pebbles like that?" Koretomo asked, turning to his friend.

"Yep," Izu nodded, adopting a proud stance with his hands on his hips. "Want to see?"

"Yeah!"

The boys dashed off to the side of the street, picking up some tiny rocks and grimacing at them until they turned red from the exertion of such intense concentration. When one of the pebbles finally responded with a wobble, Izu leapt to his feet and proclaimed his triumph, although Koretomo was convinced it was simply the vibrations from a horse-drawn carriage passing along the street.


	4. Year 1510 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1510 of the Sixth Astral Era**

Some two-dozen students sat kneeling on a floor mat in a large room, lit brightly by paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Minister Jin and several of the academy instructors stood in front of the students, with the Minister taking his place at the podium overlooking the room.

"You gathered in this room represent the best and brightest of our great nation's future," he nodded, continuing his speech, "and although the entrance exam surely tried you, the challenges you face have only just begun. Your acceptance into the academy is prestigious indeed, but with such prestige comes responsibility. You will be trained in languages both written and spoken, arithmetic, history, and the laws of the natural world. It is my sincere hope that these challenges will spark your curiosities, that they will inspire you to reach for ever greater knowledge..."

Try as he might, Koretomo simply could not resist zoning out. Minister Jin was many things, but his speeches were not particularly unique. Instead, he glanced around the room, getting a look at his fellow students. He saw Izu, who was also clearly bored, and they exchanged a triumphant grin. Izu had a natural talent for academia - albeit with a tendency to procrastinate. It had taken days of poking and prodding, but all of the late nights studying and preparing had paid off in the end.

His eyes cast out over some of the other students, and he saw a few faces he vaguely recognized. Sons and daughters of prestigious nobles and wealthy merchants, for the most part. He identified one boy as the son of the Minister of Coin - he had seen him with his father visiting Minister Jin, one time - and their eyes met, once the affluent progeny felt Koretomo's gaze upon him. His eyes were cool and dispassionate, as if he was looking right through him. The young man exhaled sharply, turning his attention back to the center of the room.

Further to the right, there was a young woman with backwards facing horns and pretty blonde hair - a rarity in Nagohama. Her eyes were also searching around the room, and when she noticed Koretomo, she nodded subtly, offering a friendly smile. Blinking, he suddenly felt warm, his heart aflutter, though he had no time to think, interrupted when everyone in the room started clapping. He joined in too, turning his attention back to the Minister's speech.

"I'm sure you're all tired, so I'll not take up more of your time," Minister Jin chuckled. "Tomorrow morning, all of you are to report to the academy with what few belongings you will need, so that you may be shown to your dormitories where you will reside during your time here. Rest well, and sharpen your minds. Prepare to learn, challenge, and grow."

"For the glory of the Dragon Throne," he conluded.

"For the glory of the Dragon Throne," all of the students repeated in kind.

With that, the Minister and the other instructors began shuffling out of the room. Some students had questions and began to talk with the instructors, while others clearly couldn't be happier to leave. Koretomo noticed that the Minister of Coin's son was staying around, leaning against a wall and looking generally unimpressed. Wondering if he mistook his earlier look for genuine hostility, Koretomo strode over and offered a small bow in greetings.

"Sorry if I distracted you earlier," Koretomo said. "My name is Koretomo. My father is one of Minister Jin's assistants. Who are you?"

"Tadanari," the young man sighed, the distaste practically visible on his lips. "Son of the Minister of Coin. Did you need something?"

"Not particularly," Koretomo admitted. "I just wanted to get to know the other students, I suppose."

"Then go bother someone else," Tadanari said, rolling his eyes and leaning back against the wall. "I'm busy."

Koretomo could only blink in surprise. Glancing around the room, he looked for anyone that might have been clearly waiting for Tadanari, or trying to get his attention.

"Busy doing what?" Koretomo challenged. "Leaning against that wall?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Tadanari sighed again. "I'm preparing. Do you think it mere coincidence that the Minister instructed us to _sharpen_ our minds?"

"What do you mean?" Koretomo asked.

"Apparently any old dullard can pass the entrance exam now," Tadanari said, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "It's because for those of higher status, one's mind is one's blade. And make no mistake, this academy is a battleground - and this is a battle I intend to _win._ But if you intend to run around and befriend everyone you meet, by all means. Just kindly do it somewhere else."

"Right," Koretomo frowned. "You...good luck with that."

His business leaning against the wall apparently finished, Tadanari pushed off the wall and filtered out of the room. Izu came up behind Koretomo, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Friendly fellow," Izu grinned. "I guess there was bound to be an insufferable prick or two in the class. At least the girls are all pretty cute, yeah?"

"Tadanari," Koretomo frowned, tapping a finger against his chin, "he wasn't in the room when we took the entrance exam."

"You noticed it too, then?" the pretty blonde girl he had noticed earlier walked up, clutching a notebook to her chest. "I took note of everyone's faces when we first took the entrance exam. I recognized everyone who passed - except for him."

Koretomo and Izu both turned to look at the girl, who promptly offered a small gasp of realization.

"Oh, excuse me for interrupting," she said, offering a polite bow. "I'm Yuki. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with him."

"I'm Koretomo," Koretomo nodded. "And this is Izu. We've been friends ever since we were little."

"Heya," Izu offered. "So, what do you make of that guy?"

"He's rude and unpleasant," Yuki sniffed. "And I really don't look forward to having to work with him. But, I can't say that he was entirely wrong."

"How do you mean?" Koretomo asked.

"The academy _is_ a battlefield, of sorts," Yuki explained. "The Ministers and even the Emperor can say how great it is that we're learning and growing, but they aren't doing this totally out of the good of their hearts. They expect things out of us. They are investing in us, and they expect us to do great things for the nation."

"When you put it that way, it makes sense that the Minister of Coin's son would get super stuck up about it," Izu nodded.

"There's any number of things the academy could research, any number of problems it could try to solve," Koretomo added. "But there's only so much time and money to go around. The researchers have to sort of...compete, for who gets funding. They have to convince people that it's a real problem, and that they could really solve it."

"Exactly," Yuki nodded. "But being a total arse to your fellow students is just the wrong way to go about it. Koretomo-kun, was it? You said your father assisted the Minister of Sciences? What does he study?"

"Alchemy," Koretomo nodded. "Liquid and gases, elements and how they change forms. That sort of thing. How about yours?"

"Oh, my father is a leathercrafter," Yuki nodded. "Mother too. My parents run a store on the lower section. They had to really save a lot for me to attend here, so I'm going to try my absolute best to make sure it was worth it."

"Oh, is that the store by the beat-up noodle bar?" Izu asked, scratching his head as Yuki nodded. "I think my dad took me there once."

"What about you?" Koretomo asked. "Is there something in particular you want to study?"

"Oh, architecture!" Yuki beamed. "I keep my notebook with me all the time, in case I see an interesting building. But I sketch people and animals, too. My dream is to one day build a huge castle, like the one at the capital! What about you guys?"

"Hmm, well I'd like to study animals, I think," Izu said. "How they behave and learn. I've always liked animals."

"I don't really know," Koretomo admitted. "Geomancy, maybe. Izu and I both have some skill in it, but I want to know more about how it works, and _why_ it works. Not just what I can do with it."

"Well, it sounds like we all have some great fields to work on," Yuki smiled.

"Oh, by the way," Koretomo began, "I heard that there was grey rot spreading in the lower section again. Is that true?"

"I heard that too," Yuki nodded. "Though I can't say I know anyone affected, personally. Hopefully it will stop spreading soon."

"Yeah, me too," Izu nodded. "Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm _really_ tired. Who knew listening to boring speeches would be so exhausting, huh?"

"We should probably get going," Koretomo agreed. "We'll see you tomorrow I guess, ah...Yuki-san?"

"Yuki is fine," she smiled. "If I can call you Koretomo. Honestly, the honorifics make me feel even more out of place here. Oh, but you should hurry on your way home, okay? I heard it's bad if you spend too long in the outside air when disease is around."

The trio left the building together, nodding and waving Yuki off as they split and went their separate ways. Koretomo and Izu walked a few blocks closer to home, chatting casually until the topic died off.

"So that Yuki girl, huh?" Izu grinned, raising and locking his arms behind his head. "You totally like her."

"What?" Koretomo mumbled, snapped out of a daydream. "No I don't. She's just...neat. And nice."

"Oh," Izu laughed. "I get it. You actually _loooove_ her."

"You shut your face," Koretomo glared. "Or I'll tell everyone about how that cool scar on your cheek actually got there."

"You wouldn't dare," Izu glared back.

"Oh yeah?" Koretome smirked. "And I bet you're not willing to even take the risk."

"Ugh," Izu sighed, rolling his eyes. "Fine, fine. Honestly, you take all the fun out of being your best friend."


	5. Year 1511 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1511 of the Sixth Astral Era**

Groaning, Koretomo slouched forward, rising out of bed and finding himself in an unfamiliar room. He felt hot, feeling his forehead covered in a thin sweat. Glancing around, he saw that this room was small and spartan in design - more of a cell than a hospital chamber. There was a wooden cup sitting atop a small shelf, full of water which he drank gratefully.

The door to the small room opened, and a man in white robes stepped inside. The hood of his healer's robe was up, and his face was concealed by a mask of paper, with a symbol drawn in red ink to ward off evil.

"You're awake," the man nodded. His voice was deep and professional, filling the room like soft thunder. "Good. You're one of the lucky ones."

"What happened?" Koretomo groaned, rubbing circles in his forehead. "I remember being at home...I caught a fever, and I couldn't sleep, and then..."

"Grey rot," the healer nodded. "You are another of many to be afflicted. Hold out your arms."

Koretomo wordlessly complied, gasping at the sight. His skin looked clammy, his pristine, white scales turning grey, dirty ash from their degradation covering his forearms. His scale pattern was spotty with several having completely fallen off, and there were ugly, sore spots where they had previously been.

"Do not panic," the healer advised, noticing the young man's horrified look. "You shall survive, as you are past the worst of it now. Your scales will return in time."

"Is this real?" Koretomo blinked. "How did this happen? I thought the outbreak disappeared!"

"It did," the healer nodded. "For a time. And now it has returned, and far worse than anyone was prepared for."

"H-how?" Koretomo said, his voice choking with emotion. "How did this happen? Why now?"

"The winds have been unusually still for this time of year," the healer explained, crossing his arms. "A foul miasma, unseen by the naked eye, lingers above our city. No man yet claims to have an answer for what we have done to displease the kami. If I had to guess, however, it would probably be that some filthy Xaela brought this curse with them by sneaking into the lower section."

"Ah," Koretomo gasped in realization. "M-my parents! What of them? How long have I been here, are they yet hale?"

"Their names?" the healer inquired.

"Hanchin and Yui," Koretomo explained. "My father works for the Minister of Sciences. My mother stays at home. Both should be registered to the same address as me, in the middle section."

"One moment," the healer said, turning to leave the room. "I shall examine our records."

The door closed, the sound doing little to drown out the sound of Koretomo's increasing heartbeat. Clutching his chest, he felt his breathing growing out of control. If he was infected with the rot, then his parents were at terrible risk. Young people like himself had a good chance of survival, since their bodies were still resilient and spry. But his parents were getting on in years, and there were no guarantees...

What if the worst had happened? For that matter, just how far had this disease spread? It was clearly no longer contained to the lower section of Nagohama. How fared Izu and his family? Or Yuki's?

The door opened again, and the healer stepped through. Standing in the middle of the room, he gazed off into space for a moment, his body language utterly indiscernible.

"I am sorry," the healer said. "Both of your parents were afflicted."

Koretomo swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn't like the man's tense. They _were_ afflicted?

"You have been passing in and out of consciousness for about three days," the healer continued. "The records state that, upon delivering you to our care, your father collapsed, and upon testing, your mother was also confirmed to bear the disease. Both were certainly already afflicted, likely just after you were."

"And?" Koretomo hastened. "How are they? Where are they now?"

The man turned to look at him from behind his paper mask. He simply stared at the young man for a moment, silent.

"Your father succumbed to the disease last night," the man finally said. "His remains have already been sealed in clay to prevent further contamination."

Koretomo was frozen. He couldn't...there simply was no way. His father...gone? Just like that?

"Your mother was more fortunate," the healer continued. "She is in another chamber in this ward. Like you, she was passing in and out of consciousness. Though we are confident she will live, there will likely be...consequences. A full recovery could take a long time...if it ever happens at all."

"Oh," Koretomo simply offered, mouthing the word so quietly he wasn't sure if he had actually said them. "Can I...go see her?"

"You may not leave this room for another two weeks," the man said, shaking his head. "Though you are on the path to recovery, you are yet afflicted. You are, however, permitted to give a message to be passed on to her."

The room fell silent again. Koretomo was unable to lift his head, and kept staring down into his lap. It...it couldn't be real. It wasn't right. Just...just like that? Really?

"I must attend to my other charges," the healer said. "I will have an aide bring you water to drink and incense sticks to light. Keep the incense burning - the smoke will aid your body in expelling the miasma."

With that, the healer turned and left again, leaving the young man alone with his repeating thoughts of disbelief.

"It can't be," he muttered. "It can't..."


	6. Year 1512 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1512 of the Sixth Astral Era**

Rapping his knuckles against the wooden door, Koretomo waited for a response before allowing himself inside the Minister of Science's office. Minister Jin sat upon a cushion on the floor, with books, scrolls, and scattered documents laying about him.

"Well met, Koretomo-kun," he smiled sadly. "Come, sit with me."

Koretomo nodded, taking the invitation and sitting upon the floor next to him, plopping down a spare cushion.

"I often find I do my best thinking on the floor," Jin chuckled. "So, what was it you wished to speak with me about, lad?"

"I am prepared to rejoin the academy and resume my studies," Koretomo declared with a confident nod. "If you will have me, Minister."

"Of course!" Jin smiled. "You were far from the only one affected. It would be terribly cruel - and entirely unreasonable - to prohibit you. Additional courses will be available to accelerate our affected students."

"You are sufficiently recovered?" Jin prompted. "These courses are there for your benefit, but make no mistake, it will be difficult to catch up. The world is not so kind as to wait for any man."

"I have been recovered for several months now," Koretomo nodded. "T'is my mother that held my attention. Though the rot no longer afflicts her, it left her...frail. She lacks strength and exhausts easily."

"I see," Jin frowned. "I am sorry. That must be very difficult."

"I was prepared to face the reality that I would not be able to return," Koretomo said, crossing his arms and looking down. "But she insisted that I not forsake my future for hers. Her sister - that is, my aunt, lives in the capital. She has pledged to shelter my mother while she recovers, so that I may focus my attention on my studies."

"That is exceptionally generous of her," Jin nodded. "Would that everyone could be so fortunate. Alas, I know that at least a few of our students will not be returning, for similar reasons."

"Make no mistake," Jin said, rising to his feet and brushing off his tunic, "the days ahead will be grueling. But I have every confidence you will succeed. You are your father's son, and if you have half the talent he did, I know you will excel."

"Thank you, sir," Koretomo said, also standing up. "But there was one other thing."

"Oh?"

"My specialty," Koretomo nodded. "I know what field I want to study, now."

"And what have you decided on?" Jin asked.

"Diseases," Koretomo explained. "Where they come from. How they work. What defeats them. I'm not satisfied with the answers of the healers and the shrine priests."

Koretomo's fists unconsciously tightened, and his eyes grew fierce.

"At least _some_ of these deaths were avoidable," he declared. "I know it. And I'll not rest until I find out how."

Jin looked at him for a moment, up and down, and then directly into his eyes.

"What a fine young man you've become," he smiled proudly. "Would that your father was only here to see it. Your chosen path is a noble one, lad. Know that I will not show you any favoritism - but should you ever have questions or want for advice, you need only ask, and I will help however I can."

"Thank you, sir," Koretomo said, bowing respectfully. "I won't misplace this trust. I swear it."


	7. Year 1516 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1516 of the Sixth Astral Era**

Yuki was leaning against a countertop in a well-lit basement room of the academy, her eye pressed close to the lens of a device sitting on the counter. The microscope held a series of lenses that greatly magnified whatever it was pointed towards, allowing her to see things small enough to avoid the unaided eye.

Koretomo approached from behind her, placing his hand on her shoulder and gently massaging her.

"See anything?" he asked.

"It's as you said," Yuki affirmed, stepping away from the microscope. "The sample is filled with those little creatures."

"Bacteria," Koretomo corrected. "They're not even really 'creatures'. They're more like...the simplest, most basic form of life. I doubt they're capable of much besides...eating and replicating, really."

"I remember the term bacteria," Yuki nodded, tapping a finger against her chin. "But the lesson didn't go into much detail. Just that someone found the existence of them some hundred years ago. And you're saying you suspect these bacteria are the source of the grey rot?"

"All the evidence is pointing towards that being the case," Koretomo nodded. "All the samples of air that we've ever tested have had nothing. But the water - when we test it, we either find none of them, or a _lot_ of them. Remember, grey rot doesn't spread at random. Come, look."

Beckoning his partner over to a wide, wooden table, Koretomo unbound a map scroll and rolled it out onto the surface.

"This is a map of the city," Koretomo explained. "And see all these red dots I've marked it with? Each one of those is a case of grey rot that happened this year. Notice anything?"

"Some districts are heavily affected, while ones only a few blocks away have almost no cases," Yuki nodded. "I'm aware of how it spreads, Tomo."

"But that's just the thing," Koretomo scowled. "If the disease truly spread through the air, it should affect everywhere evenly. But it doesn't. Why does it make a distinction between city districts? There _must_ be a common thread between the outbreaks."

"I asked a miko about that the other day," Yuki nodded. "She explained that the afflicted were those who had sinned by indulging in the vice of opium. Strange, then, how the lower section of Nagohama has the greatest density of cases by far. One would think that only the more affluent members of our city able to actually afford the stuff."

"It reminds me of the contempt in Tadanari's eyes when he talks about the poor," Koretomo frowned. "Calls them leeches and parasites, suckling away at his wealth...honestly, he thinks they're lower than even the damn Xaela."

The door to their laboratory suddenly swung open, a tall young man hurrying in to join them.

"Bad news," Izu grimaced. "There's been ten more cases today. All in the same place, too."

"Let me guess," Koretomo sighed. "They were all within a few blocks of the city stables. Right?"

"Uh, right," Izu blinked. "You think it's their water pump?"

"It has to be," Koretomo nodded, rolling up the map again and starting to prepare a backpack with supplies and testing equipment. "Come on, we need to get down there. Izu, I want you to take water samples. And not just from the pump. Ask people at the nearby homes where they got their water most recently. Write down a record of their answers. Take samples of water they drew, if they let you."

"Right," Izu nodded, joining his friend in his preparations.

"What about me?" Yuki asked. "How can I help?"

"I need your help talking to the afflicted and their families," Koretomo explained. "What I need to ask for...it's not going to be popular. Having someone else with me should add some authority to the request, especially a kind, charming young woman like yourself. It should help convince people that I'm not some deranged lunatic."

"Just what are you planning to ask them?" Yuki asked, her brow furrowing.

"We need fecal samples," Koretomo smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. 

"Fecal samples?!" Yuki grimaced. "You want me to go help you scoop up random people's _shite?!_ "

"The victim's shite!" Koretomo clarified, holding up his hands. "And I'll do the, uh...scooping. And yes, before you ask, we really need it! There's a great deal of water that is expelled in our waste. If we examine that, and we find the bacteria in it...there's our proof. Hopefully a few people haven't bothered to empty their chamberpots, yet."

"Ugh," Yuki shook her head, gripping her arm tightly. "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard of, but...I can't deny the logic. Fine."

"Great!" Koretomo grinned. "I'll carry the airtight pots, then..."

* * *

**A few weeks later...**

"You've confirmed it, then?" Izu asked.

"Aye," Koretomo nodded, pulling away from the microscope. "Boiling the water samples has ceased all bacterial activity. It's safe to say that it kills them."

"Is it safe to drink, then?" Yuki asked, leaning against the laboratory counter.

"I can only assume so," Koretomo nodded. "Though I'm not thrilled about putting it to the test."

"We don't need to test it ourselves," Izu shrugged. "The city itself will be the test, whether we want it or not."

"He's right," Yuki nodded. "We need to get the stable street pump shut down. If we're right - and I'm convinced that we are - then new cases should plummet almost immediately."

Satisfied with their course of action, the trio left their basement lab and made their way upstairs to the main academy building, making their way to the Minister's office. They knocked, and a deep voice beckoned them inside.

"Minister Jin," Yuki started, offering a curt nod. "Forgive us for our rudeness, but there's no time for formalities. We're certain we've established a link between a tainted water source and a major center of the grey rot outbreak. We need your authority - the stable street water pump needs to be shut down immediately."

"Yes, I read your earlier reports," Jin nodded, clasping his hands together on top of his desk. "You believe that the bacteria found in the water from the pump are to blame. I take it your analysis bore fruit, then?"

"They did," Izu nodded. "All but one of the victims had drawn water from the stable street pump within a few days - or had their families do it for them. The one misfit appears to have already been infected for several days."

"And the bodily waste of the victims all but confirms our theory," Koretomo nodded. "Every last one of them had significant traces of the bacteria in their stool. Uninfected individuals had _none_."

"I see," Jin nodded. "Well, I-"

Jin was interrupted when the door suddenly opened again, and in strolled Tadanari. His head was pointed high, and his face contorted in his usual dismissive sneer.

"I had thought to come deliver my father's missive, but I see I've been beaten by the trio of outhouse-scrapers," Tadanari sighed. "Bothering the Minister with your ridiculous bacterial theory again, I presume."

"It's not ridiculous," Koretomo scowled. "It's science. _Evidence_ supports our claim. You, on the other hand, have naught to explain the holes in the miasma theory, save your indignant gasps that anyone could _dare_ disagree with you, you preening peacock!"

"Honestly," Tadanari sighed, rubbing circles in his forehead, "I expect such idiocy from these two bumbling fools, but not you, Yuki. For your own sake, I strongly suggest abandoning them."

"Have you learned nothing from all our years here?" Yuki frowned. "You cling to a flawed theory. There is nothing wrong with being _wrong_ , Tadanari. And I admit, there is still the possibility that something other than the water is causing the outbreaks, but the possibility of the disease being airborne is outside the realm of logic! Shutting down the pump would be a very small sacrifice to ask, considering what we stand to gain if our theory is correct!"

Tadanari seemed genuinely puzzled by her retort, running a hand through his silky black hair, his brow furrowing even further.

"You genuinely think-" he began.

"Enough!" Minister Jin boomed, slapping his palm against the surface of his desk. "I'll suffer no more of these petty arguments. Tadanari, I'll not suffer such rudeness from anyone, son of a fellow Minister or no! Begone, and return when you've found your manners."

"Hmph," Tadanari scoffed. "Fine. You already know what I came for, so go and play with your pet students. And I think you'd know better than to keep me waiting long."

"And I'd have thought you would have gained an onze of sense in that thick head of yours after years at the nation's greatest academy," Jin glared. "Watch your tone, boy. You are not so invincible as you think. Now, begone. I'll not tell you again."

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Tadanari performed an overly elaborate bow, before turning to smirk at Koretomo, venom practically oozing from his gaze before he finally opened the door, seeing himself out.

"Gods, I hate that man," Yuki spat. "He's the perfect example of everything a vile noble should espouse."

"Watch your tongue, girl," Jin cautioned. "While I am inclined to agree with your assessment, he is set to inherit one of the most powerful positions in the royal court. You would be wise not to make him an enemy."

"Unfortunately, he's far from unique," Koretomo sighed. "There are many more like him. Those who refuse to even entertain the idea that the disease could stem from anything but what they've already decided is the truth."

"T'is a flaw of us mortal beings," Jin sighed. "We are prideful creatures. The world is confusing enough as it is. It is easier to delude oneself in the face of disconfirming evidence than to admit one's wrongness. As you say, Yuki, is it no crime to have been wrong. Science can only be carried out by being wrong many, many times."

"And we're not out to find the _correct_ answer," Izu nodded. "We're trying to find the least wrong answer."

"Well said," Jin nodded. "A theory can never be definitely proven, per se, but a single flaw can render it for the falsehood that it is. We must always challenge these beliefs, to test them to the utmost of our ability. That is the only way to carve a path towards true understanding. I pray that the three of you will remember this creed for the rest of your lives."

"We will," Izu nodded, his companions repeating his gesture.

"Now then," Jin sighed. "I'll write you a decree for the guards at the stables to assist your dismantling of the pump. Help me find my insignia stamp, will you? I can't quite recall where I left it..."

"Going senile on us, old man?" Koretomo chuckled.

"You mind your manners too, boy," Jin said, raising an unamused eyebrow. "I still have plenty of good years ahead of me, and I'll thank you to remember that. Now fetch me a scroll - unless you'd prefer I change your official title at this academy to 'outhouse scraper'."

"Ah," Koretomo stiffened, clearing his throat. "No sir. At once, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of the grey rot disease and how Koretomo and his friends are combating it are based off the real-world events of the Broad Street Pump and Dr. John Snow's efforts to combat cholera.
> 
> Link for the interested: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1854_Broad_Street_cholera_outbreak
> 
> I wanted to portray Raen cities as powerful and prosperous, with a strong central leader (the Dragon Throne and the daimyos). In particular I was inspired by Korea around the 1500's, when Admiral Yi fended off the Japanese invasion against incalculable odds. The royal court was full of schemers and sycophants, corrupt to the core. Tadanari serves as a representation of selfishness and greed common among such leaders, as well as stubborn, unchanging attitudes about science that unfortunately persist to this day.


	8. Year 1517 of the Sixth Astral Era - Part 1

**Year 1517 of the Sixth Astral Era**

"Cheers!" the three friends exclaimed, clinking their small cups of sake together. They were gathered around a table in one of Nagohama's nicer taverns, the murmur and bustle of other patrons setting a pleasant ambiance.

"To a job well done," Koretomo nodded.

"To the lives we saved," Yuki smiled.

"And to our future successes," Izu grinned. "Seriously, great work, you two. I can't imagine much of a better start to our careers than graduating with your research putting an end to bloody grey rot!"

"It's not over," Koretomo warned. "We've solved a problem, but not the cause of it. We can get tainted pumps shut off, and have town criers warn people to boil their water, but the fact remains that the water itself was tainted. It could happen again."

"The stable street pump was drawing water from the One River, as all the pumps do," Yuki nodded. "But that particular section of the river was connected to a leaking cesspool where the lower districts dumped their sewage."

"Completely untreated, of course," Koretomo sighed. "I think that should be our next focus."

"Actually," Yuki said, the corners of her lips turning upwards with more than a hint of pride, "I've already made some strides about that."

"Oh?" Izu said, inclining his head in interest.

"I volunteered my time for your disease research because I saw the good it could do," Yuki explained. "But I'm not a biologist. Architecture has always been my calling - and I think I can use my skills to improve public health. Not just against grey rot, but for everything."

"You mean to design a new sewer system?" Koretomo surmised.

"One can scarcely call what Nagohama has now a sewer system," Yuki frowned. "It's a completely uncoordinated mess. Half of the cesspools aren't even connected! What we need is a unified waterworks, completely from the ground up. Sewage needs to flow to one main point, where it can be disposed of safely. Dumping waste wherever we pleased may have worked a hundred years ago, but Nagohama is exponentially larger and more industrious now than it was then. The old system is not just failing, it's killing people."

"Sounds like you've really thought this through," Izu nodded. "We should bring this to Minister Jin."

"I already have, actually," Yuki said coyly, taking another sip of her sake. "I showed him my preliminary designs, and he was thoroughly impressed. But, this is far too large a project for him to authorize on his own, so, um..."

"Yes?" Koretomo prompted, noticing how Yuki was starting to fidget with her hair. "What did he say?"

"Don't leave us waiting!" chuckled Izu.

"He...scheduled a meeting for me to meet the daimyo next week?" Yuki managed to squeak out. "And I sort of promised that you two would be there as well?"

"The daimyo?!" Koretomo coughed up a sip of his sake, drawing concerned looks from other patrons. "The daimyo wants to talk to us? You're serious?"

"He does," Yuki nodded. "I'm sorry for not consulting you earlier, but I didn't intend for this to happen so quickly...I only meant to get Minister Jin's feedback on my design! So if you can't make it, I understand-"

"Yuki, he's the _daimyo_ ," Koretomo laughed. "We'll make it. But...wow! That's really impressive. I'm...I'm really proud of you, Yuki. Nobody else could have pulled that off."

"Tomo..." Yuki smiled, turning away and blushing.

"Save the flirting for after I leave, lovebirds," Izu said, rolling his eyes. "That said, we're gonna need to see these plans to know how we can contribute."

"I believe our method of purification would best function as a combination of physical and magical means," Yuki nodded. "Izu, I believe as a potent geomancer, you could demonstrate purification abilities, while Tomo could fashion a system to strain out impurities - boiling the water or treating it with an alchemical substance, most like."

"Boiling such a massive amount of water would take a prodigious amount of energy," Koretomo frowned. "Not to mention that it would produce a large quantity of hot steam. Not something you want to have going on beneath a major city center..."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Izu frowned. "Let's save the lab talk for later, yeah? We came here to feast, drink, and laugh! So how about we do just that?"

Waving down a tavern server, Izu grinned and ordered another bottle of sake for the group.

"Ooh, I don't know," Yuki frowned. "I'm such a lightweight when it comes to spirits."

"Then I'll drink yours for you," Koretomo grinned. "Or I could just carry you home, if you prefer." 

"Oh my, how very brave of you to offer, my champion," Yuki said, rolling her eyes, but not bothering to suppress her smile. 

"To our futures!" Izu grinned, toasting a new cup of sake as the server brought them another glass.

"You already toasted to that, didn't you?" Yuki frowned.

"Eh, I'll drink to it again anyway," Izu shrugged. "So by the way, when are the two of you finally going to get married?"

* * *

**A few days later...**

"How did this happen?" Izu grimaced.

The three friends were standing in Minister Jin's office. The man's papers and files were chaotically organized all around the room, although his absence was painfully obvious.

"The chirurgeons suspect it was a stroke," Koretomo sighed. "A blockage in the flow of blood to the brain."

"Damn it all!" Clenching his fist, Izu turned away, glaring down at the floor. "That's dzo shite, it has to be! I'll bet anything that Tadanari is behind this! Everyone knows he was hungry for the Minister's position!"

"No traces of poison were found," Yuki sighed. "I hate him too, Izu, but there's no reason to suspect foul play."

"I hate this," Izu said quietly, the tension vanishing from his body. "I don't want to accept this. It's not right."

"There's no justice to it," Koretomo nodded. "Don't look for reason in it, for there never is. Those were the words he told me, once. We'll mourn...and we'll move on. It's what the old man would have wanted."

"Has anyone contacted his family yet?" Yuki asked.

"His wife died years ago, and his two children both live in the capital," Koretomo explained. "A messenger was sent via aetheryte. "

"And what of the council?" Izu asked. "Have they finished their deliberations as to his replacement?"

"I don't know," Yuki shrugged. "It was very secretive. Nobody is allowed in or out until it concludes."

As if summoned by their ignorance, someone chose that moment to open the door to the office. An extremely smug man in a royal purple robe strolled in, flanked by two guards, armed with swords sheathed at their hips.

"Well, well," Tadanari smirked. "I had a feeling you three would be lurking about. Came to my office to be the first to congratulate me, did you?"

" _Your_ office?" Koretomo questioned. "What in the seven hells are you talking about?"

"Now, normally I would make some disparaging remark about your intelligence, seeing as you failed to reach a very simple conclusion with the available clues," Tadanari smiled. "But I'm simply in too good of a mood this evening, so allow me to elucidate. In their boundless wisdom, the daimyo and the council of ministers saw fit to make me the new Minister of Sciences, to replace my tragically departed predecessor."

Tadanari's smile made Koretomo's stomach twist into a knot. It was so palpably fake, so infuriatingly disrespectful!

"I see," Koretomo spat. "I can't imagine that it was cheap. How much did it cost?"

"Oh?" Tadanari grinned. "Whatever are you implying, my good man?"

Rushing over to Koretomo's side, Yuki gripped his wrist and looked up at his face.

"Don't," she whispered.

Faltering for a moment, Koretomo met her gaze before whipping his hand away in anger.

"Don't play dumb with me, you smug prick!" he bellowed, pointing a finger at Tadanari. "We all know of your distaste for the man! I'll bet you let out a cheer as soon as you found out what happened. So tell me - how much did it cost to buy those votes? Because you sure as shite know you didn't deserve them, allergic to effort as you are!"

Tadanari's smile vanished with a flicker, being replaced with cool disinterest. The two samurai glared at him, placing a hand on the hilt of their swords, but Tadanari help up a hand, and they relaxed their postures.

"I'd suggest you watch your tongue," he said calmly. "Unless you have a mind to see it cut out."

"Tch!" Koretomo's fists were clenching hard enough to turn his skin white, but he fought down the urge to say something else.

"That's better," Tadanari nodded. "Although I will thank you for the demonstration - a suitable reminder of just how unfit you are to carry out large-scale projects. Effective immediately, your little sewer project is cancelled."

"What?" Izu exclaimed, his brow crinkling in anger. "You can't do that! You don't have the right!"

"But I do," Tadanari shrugged. "And the rest of the council shares my opinion towards the absurdity of your claims. Without our support, your little project is finished."

"Tadanari, please," Yuki said, walking closer to him and splaying her hand against her chest. "Don't do this. If not for the good of the people, then think of the prosperity this could bring. The state would no longer need to expend so much funding for healing and the burial of the dead. The more people that avoid dying to diseases, the more that can continue to work and be taxed. Do you not find that to be a worthy investment?"

"Ah, Yuki," Tadanari smiled, clasping his hands behind his back. "Truly, you are the only sensible one. I sympathize with the people's plight - truly, I do - but this is not the way. The treasury can ill afford to be expended on such ludicrous, untested endeavors."

"Then let us test it!" Koretomo burst, throwing his arms into the air. "A single section of the city. Hells, even a single district! There are plenty of ways to keep construction costs down. How can you claim something won't be worth it if you refuse to even try?"

"Enough," Tadanari sighed. "I'll hear no more of this drivel. Be grateful that I allow you to retain your positions here, in spite of your impropriety. Now, begone from my office - the lot of you."

Biting his tongue, Koretomo said no more, keeping his head down as he marched out, refusing to make eye contact with the guards. Izu and Yuki moved to follow him, but Tadanari held up a hand before she could pass him, smiling with thinly veiled salaciousness.

"Although, Yuki," Tadanari said, " you are more than welcome to stay if you wish to...discuss matters further. Perhaps over a bottle of sake?"

"That is a very kind offer," Yuki said, smiling and responding with an apologetic bow. "Unfortunately, I have pressing matters to attend to this night. I would be pleased to some other time."

"As you wish," Tadanari shrugged. "Another time, then."

After the trio had finally filtered out of his new office, Tadanari gestured to his guards, who began opening drawers and retrieving files, taking out furniture and rearranging the layout more to his liking.

"An auspicious beginning," he chuckled to himself, taking a seat in his new chair and running his fingers over the smooth cherry-wood of his desk. "What a spectacular day..."

* * *

**Later that evening...**

"This was a bad idea," Izu sighed, hoisting a drunken Koretomo's weight onto his shoulder. "Let's just get you home before you make any more of a scene, alright?"

"I'm fine," Koretomo mumbled, stumbling along as he was led outside of the tavern, with Yuki following behind them, bowing apologetically to the owner of the establishment. "I can walk straight, let me go."

"Well you certainly weren't _thinking_ straight," Yuki sighed, hurrying to her companion's side. "Tomo, you can't openly mock a minister. You know that - and it's all the worse when it's part of a drunken ramble!"

"That talking piece of dzo shite," Koretomo spat. "He think's he's invincible. Somebody's got to tell people!"

"Well, not like this," Izu said. "All you're gonna do is get yourself in trouble."

"Trouble?" Koretomo repeated. "What about all the people he's killing, huh? He's totally fine to let people waste away, and you two are fine with that?"

"We're not fine with it," Yuki frowned. "We hate him just as much as you."

"Could have fooled me," Koretomo spat, changing his tone to a mocking falsetto. "Oh, perhaps another time, my lord! I'd _love_ to share a drink with you! The hells were you thinking, cozying up to him like that?"

"I did that because I _was_ thinking!" Yuki burst, stomping her feet as her tail stuck straight out from her body, rigid as an arrow. Several passersby took notice of her display, and she slapped a palm against her face, shaking her head and quieting her tone.

"Making an enemy of him isn't going to benefit anyone," Yuki explained. "Right now, he's on a power trip. If we can convince him that this would be profitable - we could possibly get him to change his mind."

"D'you really think that stubborn arse-" Koretomo began to say.

"I don't know!" Yuki hissed. "I don't know, okay? Maybe he'll never change his mind. But as long as we're not openly hostile, we at least have a chance. There could be some way to go around him...maybe his father would be more open to supporting the idea, or even talking directly to the daimyo himself. But trading barbs and drunkenly cursing him isn't going to help our cause! We're not children anymore, Tomo!"

"Well...that's..." Scowling, Koretomo attempted to respond, but his words failed him, and he bowed his head, grumbling incoherently.

"I have to get home," Yuki sighed. "Izu, see him home, will you?"

"Yeah, yeah," Izu nodded. "Look, tensions are high right now. We'll all feel better about this after a night's rest, yeah?"

"I'll see you both tomorrow," Yuki nodded. She looked towards Koretomo, but he was unable to meet her eyes. Biting her lip, she changed directions and started walking off in the direction of her own residence.

Koretomo had nothing to say as Izu escorted him home. Trudging up the stairs, he unlocked the door and prepared to open the door until Izu clapped him firmly on the shoulder.

"Don't do anything stupid, alright?" Izu said, the worry plain on his face. "Just go to bed, and we'll think of what to do in the morning."

Koretomo vaguely acknowledged him with a half-nod before stepping inside and closing the door. He stood there for a while, listening to the sounds outside. He heard Izu sigh and descend the steps, and the muffled conversations of passing travellers below. Deep down, he knew Yuki was right. That they would have to sing and dance, and do whatever it else it took to appease the preening peacock. Yet even as he tried to rationalize her behavior, his fists clenched, and a hot tightness twisted in his chest.

He had never liked Tadanari, but this was something else. Fury. _Hatred,_ for the wretch who had bought his position at the detriment to countless lives, who had mocked his predecessor, a man Koretomo so greatly admired.

It was unforgivable. He had to be punished! Someone had to do something - and he had an idea. Instead of resigning himself to his bed, Koretomo instead stamped over towards a cabinet, throwing it open and procuring a blank scroll, a nail, and a hammer. Next he unraveled the scroll onto his desk, uncapped a bottle of ink, and took up his quill, beginning to write.

If he couldn't speak out against him publicly, then he would do so anonymously. People would see. People would know that he was the one who exposed Tadanari for the fraud he was!

* * *

**The next morning...**

Several loud bangs on his door woke Koretomo from his drunken slumber. The noise echoed in his head, ringing painfully as he squinted from the overwhelming morning light streaming in through his window.

"Koretomo!" Izu's voice called. "Open the door! Right now, gods damn you!"

Mind awakening in response to his friend's urgency, Koretomo rose to his feet, stumbling towards his door and unlocking it.

"Izu?" he greeted, failing to cover a noisy yawn. "What time is it?"

"It's almost noon, you damn fool," Izu hissed, rushing inside and closing the door behind him. He took a moment to peer carefully through the windows before drawing the curtains tightly shut. "I told you not to do anything stupid!"

"What?" Koretomo blinked. "What's going on?"

"You're about to be killed, that's what!" Izu glared. "You nailed that gods-damned letter to a post in the academy courtyard!"

"What?" Koretomo asked, scratching his head. "How did he know it was me?"

"Because it called him a preening peacock, you daft bastard!" Izu grit his teeth to muffle his fury, gripping his friend's shoulders and shaking him violently. "Who else but you would have written that?!"

"Oh," Koretomo gulped, as the reality of the situation finally began to sink in. "Oh, shite..."

"Now do you understand?" Izu relented, stepping back and crossing his arms. "Look, we don't have time for this. Tadanari's on the warpath, and he wants your head. I'm only here because Yuki caught wind of what was happening - she sent me here to get you out."

"Get me out?" Koretomo blinked. "Where do I go?"

Izu shrugged off a backpack that he had been carrying, opening it up and pulling out a scroll. Rolling it out against the wall, he revealed it to be a map of Nagohama.

"Away," he said simply. "Far away. One of the wealthiest and most powerful families in the empire wants you dead. The valley won't be safe, and there's no guarantee his agents won't search for you in the other major cities. No, Yuki was certain that your best bet would be to go to the Azim Steppe."

"The Steppe?!" Koretomo balked. "Gods, that's _how_ many malms from here?"

"And?" Izu glared. "You got a better idea? Nobody in their right mind would look for you that far away. Besides, even if you do have a better idea, there's no time for it. There will already be guards looking for you - waltzing straight out the city gates is going to be too risky."

"You need to go here," Izu nodded, tapping his finger against a part of the map. "To the stables. You know the place, right by the old pump. The building has a hidden tunnel leading under the city walls -they use it to smuggle in goods to get around the tariffs."

"How do you know all of this?" Koretomo questioned.

"Ask Yuki," Izu responded, shaking his head before pulling out a warm-looking brown cloak from the backpack. "Not that there's any time to. Here, take the map and the backpack - and put this cloak on."

"The owner knows you're coming," Izu explained. "Tell him Yuki sent you. There will be a horse with a week's worth of supplies waiting for you. Follow the mountain road southeast along the One River - you can ask the residents of the villages for the precise whereabouts of the Ura clan. They should be your first destination."

"This is it, then?" Koretomo blinked. "Running away...just like that?"

"Just like that," Izu nodded, unstrapping something from his side before holding it out to his friend. "And take this knife. I pray to the kami that you won't have to use it, but...I'd rather you have it and not need it."

Unable to say anything, Koretomo stared down blankly at the small blade in his hands, as if it had fallen from the very heavens.

"You don't have time to stand around!" Izu burst. "You have to go, now!"

"But-" Koretomo tried to say.

"No time!" Izu cut him off, shaking his head. "Go! You go first, and I'll disappear after I've locked the door. That should buy you a little time before Tadanari's thugs kick it down."

Finding himself still unable to move, Izu gripped him by the collar, pulling him towards the door and giving him a kick towards it.

"Go!" he repeated, and finally, Koretomo's muscles began to respond. He took the first step down the stairs gingerly, looking back one last time towards his lifelong friend, who had already turned his attention to other matters.

Swallowing his fear, Koretomo drew the cloak's hood over his head, and hurried off towards the stables...

* * *

**Later that day...**

Gently pulling back on the reigns to instruct his horse to slow down, Koretomo carefully slung the backpack off his shoulders, taking care not to drop anything, unaccustomed to riding as he was. There was a sturdy canteen inside, a pouch full of a few silver coins, a map of Othard, and a letter, bound in a red string that he had yet to open. Pulling out the letter, he placed the string between the scales on his wrist, using them to slice the string and open the letter. Swallowing his apprehension, he looked around again to confirm that nobody else was with him on the road, before finally turning his attention to the letter.

_Dearest Tomo,_ it began.

_I pray that you will never see this letter. I pray that I will see you again, that we can work together to overcome this, and that I can safely toss this letter into the fire. But I know you, and I know how bitterly you can cling to your resentments. When you were unable to meet my eyes, I could tell how harshly Minister Jin's passing - and Tadanari's cruelty - affected you . I know your heart twists with furious agony at this injustice , and I fear you will do something rash. Should such an event come to pass, I thought it wise to prepare an escape route ahead of time. The owner of the stables knows us, and is grateful for what we had done to quell the grey rot, and has graciously volunteered us the use of his hidden tunnel. I paid him for a sum of supplies and the use of a steed to carry you away . I could offer less than he deserved, for such generous succor, but he insisted._

_If you are indeed forced to flee the city, know that this is not the worst outcome. You are yet still alive - and I would take great solace in that comfort. Time is our ally in this endeavor - slights may be forgotten, one corrupt noble may be replaced with another. So please, flee. Live. Do not attempt to return or contact us, for it would surely endanger you. Make your way towards the Azim Steppe to the southeast - use the coins to replenish your supplies as you go. The Ura clan is the closest, geographically, to Raen society, being primarily a group of miners . They trade their mineral wealth for goods and services with other clans, and are not strangers to bartering with Raen, either. Hatari village lies on the outskirts of the empire and should be a reliable place to find Ura traders. Given the nomadic nature of the tribes, it would be wise to visit the Ura and obtain accurate information for your true destination - the Malaguld clan._

_I know the idea will not sit well with you , given the Xaela's reputation as savage barbarians. But the Malaguld are known for being one of the only clans to accept us, and you have precious few options. The Xaela's warlike nature should be a boon, in this case - no agent of the royal court would dare attempt to go and make inquiries among them. Go to them, and do whatever it takes to survive. Be wary of Xaela wearing dark green or bright yellow. These are the Buduga and the Oronir, some of the most assertive tribes, and it is quite possible that they would attempt to enslave you - or simply slay you on the spot for the crime of having white scales._

_It may be difficult for you to keep track of time, bereft of civilization. In just under three year's time, there is to be a complete eclipse of the greater moon. On that day, let us attempt to reunite at Hatari village. Hopefully, things will have grown quiet enough by then to allow such a reunion. If we are unable to meet, then let us leave a message with the local tavern, and wait for a week or so for the others to arrive. I pray that we will be able to meet again, even if only by letters. Yet even if we can not, there is one thing I pray for above all else._

_I pray for you to be happy._

_Surrender not to despair. Know that I love you, and will continue to work to see our goals realized , in whatever form that must take._

_\- Yuki_

A wet droplet fell from his cheek, landing on the paper and leaving a mark. Quickly rolling it back up, Koretomo slipped the letter back inside the backpack. Dabbing at his eyes with his sleeves , he choked down a sob and tapped his feet against his mount's flanks, bringing it into a gallop towards the setting sun.

"Gods damn it all," he croaked. "Such a fool. I'm such a damned fool..."


	9. Year 1517 of the Sixth Astral Era - Part 2

**A few days later...**

Koretomo's path took him along a long ridge, overlooking the One River. It afforded him an excellent view of the land as he traveled, and he saw as the lush greenery and forests of the mountain valleys began to give way to the rolling, grassy plains of the Steppe. Hills flattened and foliage grew more sparse with each day. Initially, he would frequently pass merchant caravans and other travelers along the road, but traffic became rarer the further he went.

On the eighth morning of his journey, Koretomo spotted a trail of dust in the distance, kicked up by three horse-riders from the south. Taking out a small spyglass - another precious gift Yuki had included - he examined them more closely.

"Oh, shite," he gasped, noticing the dark green banners each horse bore on their flanks.

Like their mounts, the riders also wore dark green, and each wore hats with long cloudkin feathers trailing behind them in the wind. All three riders were men, which cemented the identity of their tribe - the Buduga. Theirs was a tribe of only males, and their ranks were only increased by kidnapping young boys, making prisoners out of the survivors of their raids, or receiving men as tribute to ward off their tribe's infamous aggression.

"Why in the hells are they this far away from their part of the Steppe?" Koretomo wondered aloud.

Koretomo immediately jerked his horse to the side, taking it off the road before dismounting, hiding behind a large boulder. Crouching he down, he watched the Buduga outriders with his spyglass for a long while, watching their path. Mercifully, the riders made a sharp turn and started traveling west, further away from him.

"No fire tonight, then," he mumbled, sighing in relief. Waiting a bit longer to make sure the Buduga really were leaving, before getting back in the saddle and bringing his horse into a trot. The more distance he put between them, the better.

Koretomo rode for two more days after that, the road gradually growing narrower and messier. Eventually, the road stopped altogether, coming to the last bastion of Raen civilization - a small village called Hatari.

The village itself wasn't much to talk about - mostly a collection of stone buildings and huts made from hardened mud, as wood was hard to come by this close to the Steppe. Hatari made its living primarily through grain farming, but was significant for being one of the few points of trade between the Raen and Xaela. The merchants that operated there made considerable profits.

After spending a chunk of what little coin he had to restock his supplies, Koretomo paid a visit to the village's sole tavern, buying a small cup of sake and inquiring with the locals as to the location of the Ura and Malaguld tribes. None could claim to know of the latter, but as it so happened, a trade caravan from the Ura would soon be departing the village, having finished trading their mineral wealth for carts of lumber, rice, and wheat.

Hurrying to their caravan, Koretomo waved down a group of three Xaela men who were loading sacks of foodstuffs into their horse-drawn carts. Unsure how to address them, he glanced at all three before turning to the tallest man.

"Err, greetings," he offered, politely inclining his head. "You are of the Ura tribe, yes? My name is Hisame, and I seek the Malaguld tribe. Might you know where they are?"

The three Xaela men exchanged a look amongst themselves before turning back to him. One glared at him with open hostility, muttering a word that Koretomo did not understand before turning back to his work. Another simply stared at him, while the tallest man shrugged, pointing somewhere further down the line of carts. Craning his neck, Koretomo saw an Ura woman with a pickaxe strapped to her back, moving in between the carts while pausing to inspect the cargo.

"I should...talk to her, I take it?" Koretomo mused.

The tall man nodded, turning back to his work. Koretomo turned to leave while the other Xaela man continued to stare at him, until his colleague angrily grumbled something at him to get him working again. Moving further down the caravan, Koretomo approached the Ura woman, clearing his throat loudly as he approached. She glanced at him briefly through the corner of her vision, but did not stop her inspection of the cargo.

"Ah, erm, greetings to you!" Koretomo offered. "My name is Hisame, and I seek the Malaguld tribe. I was...pointed, to speak with you regarding that...I believe?"

"A runaway, are you?" the woman asked coolly. 

"Something like that," Koretomo admitted.

"Anything violent?" she asked nonchalantly. "Something I should be concerned about?"

"Violent?" Koretomo repeated. "N-no! If you truly must know, I made mock of a tyrant, and-"

"Stop," the woman commanded, finally turning around to face him. "I don't care for the details. It's the Malaguld you need to impress, not me. And aye - I heard you talking to my men. I know where the Malaguld are, yes."

"You heard that all the way from here? You have exceptional hearing, my lady." Koretomo blinked, turning back to gauge the distance towards where he had approached the three men. All Au Ra were possessed of perceptive hearing thanks to their hollow horns, true, but that was still quite a distance!

"Spare me your idle flattery, Raen," the woman frowned. Unexpectedly, she did not spit the name of his kind with the venom of disgust. It was more of...a cold indifference. 

"My convoy is set to return to our own tribe's location," she continued. "And our route will bring us close to the Malaguld along the way. If you wish to journey to them, you may accompany us until that point - with conditions."

"And what are your conditions?" Koretomo inquired.

"If you lag behind, we will not wait for you," the woman shrugged. "And if you do anything to endanger my convoy or my tribe, I'll drag you from your horse and leave you for the hungry gedan that are bound to follow in our wake. Understand?"

Pausing to think for a moment, he considered her words. Keeping up with a slow trading caravan shouldn't prove difficult, inexperienced rider though he was. And he had no intention of disturbing them, so as long as he kept quiet and didn't bother them, he doubted there would be any problems.

"Very well," Koretomo nodded. "Your terms are fair, and I would thank you for your guidance."

"We leave in an hour," the woman said plainly, pointing back towards the trio of men before turning back to her inspections. "Speak to Buzjan about the cargo, he'll give you a task to occupy yourself with."

"As you wish," Koretomo nodded, walking away.

* * *

Koretomo's journey with the Ura caravan was blissfully uneventful. As the caravan master had promised him, Koretomo saw straggling packs of gedan tracking them in the distance, the beasts watching them hungrily. But the beasts were pack hunters and scavengers, and knew better than to try their luck against the bows and spears of the caravan's guards. Yet they were also too stubborn to give up their quarry, following them for the entire duration of the trek, waiting for an opportunity that never came.

"It's a wonder the beasts don't starve themselves to extinction," Koretomo muttered.

Bringing his horse towards the head of the caravan, he scanned the group for the caravan's master, waving cordially to her. She glanced at him before turning her attention back to the horizon.

"May I ask you a question?" he asked, bringing his mount side-to-side with hers.

"You just did," she sighed. "But I suppose you had another."

"Err...yes," Koretomo nodded, before pointing to the hefty mining tool that was still attached to her back. "It's about your pickaxe. Why is it that you always keep it strapped to your back? Would it not be less tiring to take it off when you aren't mining?"

The master was quiet for a moment, considering his question.

"Do all Raen shy away from their burdens?" she asked wryly. "The Ura is a tribe that avoids conflict with the others. Mining the earth of her bounty is how our tribe survives. Our fate depends on this, and so our people's leaders will keep their picks and hammers close at hand, as much as possible. The weight of our tools is a reminder of the burden of responsibility we bear to the rest of the tribe."

"I see," Koretomo said. "I hadn't even considered something like that. Thank you for telling me."

"There is one other reason," the caravan master added, her lips curling up into the faintest of smiles. "It encourages us to find the most valuable ore...to provide sturdy, yet lightweight materials for our craftsmen."

The Ura caravan continued travelling for ten days, cutting a path directly through the ocean of grass that was the Steppe, stopping only to refill their water supplies and let their animals rest. The Ura tribe members weren't exactly friendly to him, but neither were they hostile, and Koretomo felt that was more than sufficient. 

On the dawn of the eleventh day, the caravan master pulled him aside, gesturing to the southwest, where he could see faint pillars of smoke rising in the distance.

"They Malaguld are half a day's ride in that direction," she nodded, marking a point on his map. "Smoke from their fires, I would imagine. You will pass the Fingers of Nhaama as you go - look for five large stone monuments. Their encampment is but a few malms south of there."

Thanking her for her guidance, Koretomo bade her well and took his leave, turning his mount to follow her recommended path. 

Several hours of riding later, the Malaguld's encampment finally began to come into clearer view. The tribe had set up their portable tents - which he knew they called _ger_ \- against the craggy back of a diminutive hill, which couldn't have been more than twenty fulms tall. Long lines of rope sectioned off areas of grassland into rectangles, where the tribe's flocks of sheep and dzo grazed passively. Large patches of grass were considerably smaller than others, making it easy to tell where the herd had been. Koretomo could see several people walking among the flock, tending to the animals. Some tribe members were knelt down next to the larger sheep, squeezing out milk into clay pots.

A Xaela man on horseback took notice of him and tapped his feet into his mount's flanks, trotting over to intercept Koretomo. He had a long, wooden spear at his back, with a tip of obsidian that glinted in the dwindling evening sunlight.

"Hail, traveler," the sentry waved. His voice was friendly enough, but his posture was stiff, and his eyes scanned Koretomo with caution. "I have observed your approach for some while now. For what reason do you approach the Malaguld?"

"Hail to you as well," Koretomo responded. "My name is Koretomo, and I come from a city called Nagohama...one I cannot return to without a wish for death. I...I was told to seek out your tribe."

"A runaway, then," the sentry nodded, his posture relaxing a little. "Very well. You are far from the first Raen to seek us out, and you are not like to be the last."

"I will allow you to enter our encampment," the sentry continued. "But first, you will surrender any weapons to me. They will be returned to you, once the khan has reached a decision about you."

"That's reasonable," Koretomo nodded. "I only have a knife, however. I've been using it to cut small plants and prepare food."

"You may hold onto that," the sentry nodded. "But to come to the Steppe without weapons? You must have been truly desperate."

The sentry gestured for Koretomo to follow, and both men turned their mounts towards the encampment.

"I'm not wholly defenseless," Koretomo admitted. "I have some skill with geomancy. And I traveled with an Ura caravan for most of my time in the Steppe itself, so I've thankfully not needed to fend off any wild beasts."

"A geomancer, you say?" the sentry repeated. "Such talents are rare on the Steppe. Are you a healer?"

"I have some basic knowledge of healing, yes," Koretomo shrugged. "Although I'm hardly an expert. I've not dealt with more than cuts and fevers."

"I see," the sentry said plainly. 

The two were quiet for the rest of their short journey towards the encampment. Shadows of clouds passed them by as they entered, blades of grass waving in the wind. Darting among the dozens of colorful gers, a group of children paused to examine them, gazing curiously at the newcomer. Koretomo waved at them, forcing himself put as much friendliness into his smile as he could. The children laughed and scattered, continuing their games.

The adults of the tribe regarded him in much the same way as the sentry did. Their faces were calm and curious - a mix of of cautious optimism and tempered suspicion. Plainly, this event was not novel to them. Koretomo was surprised to see just how many white scales were among the tribe - at least a third of the people he saw were Raen like himself, including several of the children.

The sentry escorted him to the largest tent in the encampment, at the rocky base of the hill. This ger, like all the others, was made from colorful textiles, with many patterns and symbols he did not recognize woven into them. However, this one was elevated upon a wooden foundation - a sure sign of importance, given how difficult timber was to obtain. Dismounting, the sentry went ahead of him and pushed past the flap of the ger's entrance. He reappeared a moment later, beckoning him forward. Hitching his horse to a nearby post, Koretomo followed the sentry inside.

The interior of the ger was decorated in a surprisingly familiar fashion. The floor was wooden, with intricate, circular carpets adorning the floor. There were several trunks and chests against the gers walls, with books, scrolls, and various trinkets inside. These gave the room a feeling not unlike the academy's offices, although there was no heavy furniture or delicate glasscraft to be found here. It was clear that even for an important place like this, everything was made to be as lightweight and portable as possible, ready to be packed down and transported at a moment's notice.

A number of cushions were lying on the floor in a semicircle, with a larger, white cushion lying at the middle point. A Raen man was sitting cross-legged atop it, and he smiled at Koretomo as he approached. Standing to his side was a Xaela woman, clad in thick leather armor with a long, curved blade sheathed at her side. Unlike most of the villagers, she eyed him with open suspicion, bearing a stern frown as she observed him.

"Salutations," the man offered, gesturing for Koretomo to sit down on a cushion opposite him. "I am Gozan, khan of the Malaguld. I understand you seek to join us?"

The Malaguld sentry offered a respectful nod before leaving the ger, while the swordswoman remained standing - presumably the khan's bodyguard or some such.

"That is correct," Koretomo nodded, taking a seat and copying his host's posture. "I am Koretomo...formerly of Nagohama. I have to say, though, I'm surprised that a Raen could be a khan of a Xaela tribe."

"Xaela, Raen," Gozan shrugged. "The Malaguld see little distinction in the color of our scales. We endeavor to judge an individual by their merits - not the circumstances of their birth. Unfortunately, not many of the tribes of the Steppe share this outlook."

"I suppose I can't fault them for that," Koretomo said. "The Raen are hardly welcoming of Xaela."

"So I've heard," Gozan shrugged. "Though I have little personal experience with such things."

"Are you also from the valleys?" Koretomo questioned.

"Doma, actually," Gozan nodded. "Though I was but a child when I came to the Steppe. But alas, we should discuss your tale, not mine."

"Right," Koretomo nodded, crossing his arms. He knew it would come to this, of course, but to finally say it all out loud...in a way, it was like he had to convince himself it was all real, too.

And so, Koretomo explained his circumstances. He told them how his rival had taken a position of power he had not deserved, undoing his predecessor's good, hindering his plan to help the people of the city from an evil as universal as disease. And he told him of his recklessness and his impulsive decision to speak out against such a powerful man, and how it had cost him his career, his friends, and his home. Gozan listened patiently, nodding along as Koretomo went, not interrupting him even once. The swordswoman continued to watch him carefully, though he got the feeling she was listening closely, too.

"I see," Gozan said calmly, once Koretomo had finally finished. "It is not my place to judge, though I am glad that you can see both the good and the wrong in your actions."

Gozan was quiet for a while, closing his eyes in thought.

"I will tell you this," he explained. "Many Raen have fled persecution by running to us. In many cases, we deemed that persecution to be unjust, and welcomed them. And in some few others, we deemed that they were on the wrong side of justice."

"How do you mean?" Koretomo asked.

"Thieves," Gozan nodded. "Murderers and rapists. Many come to us seeking new lives. Most deserve it, but some do not. Accepting such individuals would weaken the tribe, something a khan must be ever vigilant against."

"In truth," Gozan sighed, "we have no way of verifying your story. You must understand that we cannot accept your words alone as truth."

"What should I do, then?" Koretomo frowned. "I can hardly return and collect witnesses to my good character."

"Indeed!" Gozan chuckled. "Nay, we shall test your character in another way. All those who seek to become members of the Malaguld must undertake our trials, be they our own children coming of age or strangers arriving from distant lands."

"What are these trials?" Koretomo asked.

"To join us, you must be approved by a majority vote of our council," Gozan nodded. "There are five members, including myself. Each will have a test for you, in order to earn their vote. There is no restriction on time, as long as you are clearly putting effort in, and you may attempt them in any order. We will have food for you and a place to stay while you attempt your trials, but you will be expected to repay the tribe with your labors."

"Seems like a reasonable system," Koretomo nodded. "Who are these members of the council?"

"Tsuji here is the commander of our martial might," Gozan nodded, cocking his head towards the stoic swordswoman, who gave a half-nod in response. "I take it you have little experience with weapons or battle."

"Little and less," Koretomo admitted. "Though I have some skill as a geomancer and healer, I am no mage."

"A test of bravery and instinct, then," Tsuji said coolly, finally speaking. "Most of the tribe are not soldiers, but even children are expected to know the basics. We will discuss it later."

"The others you will need to speak with are Chambui, our master forager, Ogele, the caretaker of our flocks, and finally Qara, who oversees our interactions with other tribes," Gozan finished. "As for my own test, I simply require that you speak and act with honesty and respect when you interact with the members of our tribe. All are equal here, and you shall act accordingly."

After that, Gozan summoned the sentry from earlier, who gave him a brief tour of the encampment, showing him where he should go to get food or pass waste. Pointing out a group of yellow, octagonal ger, the sentry stopped for a moment.

"Most ger are occupied by families or couples," he explained. "But those ones are for individuals with no such ties, as well as travelers or members from other tribes who need to rest."

By the time the brief tour had finished, Koretomo's exhaustion had caught up with him. So many days on the road and in the saddle were making their presence known in his sore joints and stiff neck, and he retired to the communal sleeping ger after handing his horse's reigns to the sentry, who kindly offered to take it to the flockmaster. The thought crossed Koretomo's mind that he should store the contents of his horse's saddlebags somewhere, but what options did he have? Such a gesture would only serve to ferment distrust with his hosts.

About a dozen other people were in the ger, bedrolls arranged in a circle around the floor. Taking an available one, Koretomo slipped inside of the bedroll, grateful for the surprisingly good insulation the ger provided.

This was it, then. This was to be the start of his new life...he would have to work hard in order to earn his place.

Eyelids weighing down like heavy curtains, sleep claimed him before his mind could wander to the past.

* * *

The following morning, Koretomo asked one of the other people in the ger where to go for breakfast. After a small, but admittedly filling meal, he sought out Tsuji, the stern samurai. She was attending to her curved blade, a katana of splendid craftsmanship he would never have expected to find on the Steppe. Her face was calm, even pleased, as she ran a sharpening stone over the blade's edge, humming to herself almost imperceptibly.

"You have good timing, if nothing else," she said to Koretomo, without looking up. "Though you look as shaky and uncertain as a newborn foal."

"Well, I hope I can learn to correct that," Koretomo answered.

"As well you should," Tsuji said, sheathing her blade and standing up. "The Steppe is no place for indecisiveness. Come."

Turning around, she began to walk off without another word. Hurrying to follow her, the two went a short ways away from the morning bustle, giving them ample space on the open plains.

"Now then," Tsuji nodded. "My test begins immediately."

"What is this test?" Koretomo asked.

Tsuji did not answer with her words. Instead, she crouched down, pulling back her right fist in an exaggerated windup. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he pondered her meaning. Was this some sort of ritual? Should he copy her movements?

She did not give him any further time to think, suddenly stepping forward and striking out towards him with her fist.

"Woah!" Koretomo gasped, managing to awkwardly hop to the side. He barely avoided her punch, but she barged into him with her shoulder, knocking him aside with astonishing strength for someone considerably smaller than him.

"So slow," Tsuji sighed, shaking her head as Koretomo rose to his feet. "I could not have made such a strike more obvious."

"That was the test?" Koretomo asked, bewildered. "What is punching me supposed to achieve?"

"Danger is the test," Tsuji corrected, crouching down and slowly pulling back her first again. "React appropriately."

Koretomo tensed up, watching her like a hawk as he prepared to sidestep her punch again. She shot forward and again Koretomo hopped to the side, but this time Tsuji brought back her elbow to strike him in the side, making him wince in pain. Then she swung her leg towards his, sweeping him off his feet and knocking him onto the ground.

"Ow!" Koretomo groaned. "You could hold back a little, you know!"

"Think you that a gedan will hold back?" Tsuji answered, dashing over to him and raising her leg high into the air, prepared to deliver a powerful axe kick. "Or a tiger, or a matanga?"

Koretomo desperately rolled his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the crushing impact of Tsuji's foot. Her force was enough to send vibrations into the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dirt and grass. She could have seriously killed him there!

"Yours was a life of softness and comfort," Tsuji frowned, stopping for a moment. "You are no warrior."

"I never claimed to be!" Koretomo countered, rising to his feet and preparing for the next attack.

"But even a newborn foal has instincts," Tsuji continued, drawing her katana from its sheath. "It knows when to struggle, run, or call for help. Let us see if you can do the same."

Twirling around her blade in her hand, Tsuji's frown remained firmly upon her features as she began sauntering towards him, sunlight glinting off the tip of her katana with lethal promise.

Backing away from her, Koretomo bit his lip in concentration. There was no time for grand strategy here - this was a test of reflex and instinct when plunged into a sudden life-or-death situation. He had to do something...but what?

Gesturing towards the earth, Koretomo curled his fingers and brought his hand upwards. A clump of earth broke free from the ground, grass roots and all, and began floating upwards at his command. As if miming the action, he pulled his arm back and pretended to throw a ball at Tsuji, launching the ball of earth at her. In the blink of an eye, Tsuji's blade flashed at the makeshift projectile, turning it into a spray of dirt that she turned her head against, continuing her advance towards him unperturbed.

"Shite," Koretomo mumbled. "Think, think, think..."

He was out of practice, and without a magical implement like a staff to channel his aether into, his powers would be greatly diminished. A ball of dirt clearly wasn't going to stop her, but...perhaps if he used more force?

Using both hands this time, Koretomo started to channel the magic into his hands as best he could. When his hands began to tingle as if licked by invisible flames, he had reached his limit. Gritting his teeth, he shot his hands down towards the earth, propelling invisible force into the soil. The earth burst forth in a minuscule eruption, sending a shower of dirt and grass towards Tsuji that even she could not cut through. She paused, covering her eyes with her hands from the rain of soil - a sign that Koretomo took as his signal. Already feeling winded from the effort of his geomancy, Koretomo inhaled a great breath, turned towards the village, and...

Began to sprint away.

"Help!" he shouted, waving his arms towards the encampment. "Tsuji means to kill me! Someone help!"

The camp's sentries, who had been watching the exchange, were unable to contain their amusement any longer, bursting into hollering fits of laughter. Other tribe members took notice, looking up from their morning meals with growing smiles. The trio of playing children from the day before appeared from behind a red ger, giggling as they circled around him.

"You did it!" they shouted. "Yay, you did it!"

"Eh?" Koretomo swallowed nervously, looking behind him for his pursuer. "I did?"

"I'd say so!" a jolly voice boomed. Khan Gozan stepped out from the crowd of onlookers, revealing himself to be the owner. "You retain your instincts, my friend. T'is folly for any of us to even hope to best Tsuji in a trial of martial prowess."

"So...I was meant to run away?" Koretomo frowned.

"Of course," Tsuji sighed, suddenly appearing behind him. "The newborn foal can hardly hope to fend off a tiger. But in numbers, there is strength, and in strength, safety."

"Many Raen are too proud to flee and call for aid," Tsuji continued, twirling her blade again, wiping it clean with a cloth. "Some are so unaccustomed to danger that they freeze up, unable to move. Or their spirits are so broken, they may even crave their end. You are slow and clumsy, but it is plain that you still wish to live. That is...good."

"Good?" Gozan repeated with a smile. "Did you hear that, everyone? It's not often you'll hear that from one as grim as Tsuji."

The crowd smiled and laughed at their khan's teasing. Tsuji exhaled sharply through her nose, sheathing her blade once again.

"Tch," Tsuji scoffed. "The will to survive means little without the strength to exert it. Go and see the supplymaster. He tell you what is required to obtain a staff to channel your geomancy. The other mages of the tribe can drill you in self-defense. Show me sufficient improvement and you will have my vote."

With that, Tsuji walked off, flicking dirt from her hair.

"Just so you know," Gozan added, "she wouldn't have killed you. She would, however, have no qualms about breaking bones."

"Would she really go that far?" Koretomo wondered aloud.

"Aye," Gozan nodded, his earlier amusement shifting to a more solemn expression. "The Steppe is full of danger, make no mistake. Those who cannot recognize it and react to it are sure to perish. There are adolescents undertaking their own trials that she has left bruised and broken. Yet the healers will attend to them, and they learn from their failures. And to challenge Tsuji again, knowing full well the price of failure - that too is a great sign of bravery, is it not?"

"Harsh, but fair," Koretomo nodded after a moment's contemplation. "That does indeed seem to be the way of the people of the Steppe."

"I'm glad you can see that," Gozan nodded. "Danger is never far, and you should always be mindful of it. And yet, you cannot let it consume you with indecision or paranoia. Give danger the respect it deserves, learn how it can be overcome, and prepare accordingly. That is how you survive on the Steppe."

"I see," Koretomo nodded. "And the other aspect of her lesson is the importance of relying on the group?"

"You are a quick learner," Gozan grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "I think I'm starting to like you! Yes, that is her other point. Like the pack of hunting gedan or the flock of migrating sheep, a clan is more than the sum of its parts. You must be able to depend not only on yourself, but the others around you. We are nothing without each other."

A long grumbling from Gozan's stomach interrupted his further thoughts, causing him to laugh sheepishly and rub the back of his head.

"It seems my stomach has little appetite for philosophy," he chuckled. "Well then! As I hear my breakfast calling to me, might I suggest you visit Chambui, next? Mayhap you have yet to notice, but your outfit is becoming quite ragged."

Koretomo glanced down to investigate himself. Indeed, his dogi had stains of grass and dirt all over it, and had a number of small tears. The fine silks of an academic would benefit him little in the open Steppe, and it became painfully obvious how different he looked to everyone else.

"I will do so," he nodded. "Thank you."

Taking his leave from the khan, Koretomo made his way over to a series of large, rectangular ger at the center of the village. By the sheer amount of crates, sacks, and pots in and around them, it was clear that this area functioned as a storage center for the clan's supplies. Some people were going around the various containers, checking the contents and nodding thoughtfully. Others were moving away from the storage area, carrying sacks of supplies towards different areas of the camp. At the center of it all, he spied a man with an administrative look about him, and waved to him.

"Fair morning to you," Koretomo greeted, bowing politely. "Might you know where I can find Chambui?"

"Aye," the man nodded. "I am responsible for keeping inventory and managing this mess, but she's the one who knows how to best bring in new material. That's her over there - the red haired one."

Pointing to the ger opposite them, the supplymaster identified the woman in question for him.

"Ah, and you'll be needing a mage's staff, yes?" the man continued. "I'll inform the fletcher, but you'll need to provide the materials. Chambui will know what you need."

"Word certainly spreads quickly around here," Koretomo nodded. "Thank you."

Satisfied, the supplymaster gave a nod, turning back to his business. Koretomo continued over to Chambui, who had just finished speaking with another Xaela woman.

"Fair morning to you," he greeted. "I was...err...that is..."

Koretomo's words failed him as Chambui turned to look at him. Like many of the other clan members, she wore a long coat in the clan's colors - red and white - decorated with an abstract pattern and adorned with pretty cloudkin feathers. Her hair was a deep crimson, short and well-kept, and she had a laurel of fresh wildflowers atop her head. Her black horns were flat, sprouting diagonally from her head like fins. She tilted her head up to look at him, with a kindly smile befitting her angelic grace.

"Yes?" she prompted. "Oh, you're the new man, aren't you? You've arrived at a good time, I was just about to set out. Come, over here!"

Grabbing him by the wrist, Chambui gave him a little tug, pulling him out of his stupor as she led him to another supply ger.

"I'm pretty sure they were in this one..." she muttered aloud, rummaging through a sack. "Ah, here it is. Arms up!"

"Eh?" Koretomo questioned.

"Up, up!" she repeated, prodding at his sides until he lifted his arms. "I need to take your measurements."

Holding out a long string with marks on it, Chambui wrapped it around his body, humming thoughtfully as she took mental notes. Koretomo was content to stand there, resisting the growing heaviness in his arms as the woman moved around him.

"Hmm, okay," she said, nodding in satisfaction. "I've got them. You can lower your arms, now."

"What was that for?" he asked her.

"What a strange question," she giggled, placing one hand over her mouth to muffle her amusement. "Your new clothes, of course! Why else would you come to me in such dirty robes?"

"Ah, right," Koretomo nodded. "That, but also because Khan Gozan said you would have a trial for me."

"Oh!" Chambui gasped. "Right! A trial...hmm..."

"Is something wrong?" Koretomo asked.

"Hmm..oh? Oh, nothing's wrong!" Chambui assured him, waving her hands in the air. "It's just...well, I haven't thought of one yet. To be honest, I've only been the 'master of foraging' for a few months now, and I'm not really sure I deserve the position."

Her mood dipped into the melancholy for a moment, before she shook her head, summoning her courage.

"But Khan Gozan chose me for a reason, so I'll strive to live up to those expectations!" she affirmed. "Oh, I know! I'll teach you to gather kudzu roots! Then you can gather the materials for your own outfit."

"I also need to provide the supplymaster with materials for a geomancer's staff," Koretomo added. "Can you teach me how to get those?"

"Oh, not as such," Chambui said, shaking her head. "Those require wood, and there's none to be found for malms in every direction. We usually have to trade with other clans to obtain wood, unless we're close enough to the northern mountains that trees can start to grow. We do have some wood in store suitable for your needs, but you'll have to provide a fair amount of other materials to take it."

"That's understandable," Koretomo nodded. "Well, I'm ready to learn if you're ready to teach me."

"We'll just need another set of tools and we can go," Chambui nodded, leading him over to another section of the supply area. Once he was equipped, the pair double checked their supplies of water and food, mounting up and riding out somewhere to the west.

"Kudzu grows most abundantly near water," Chambui explained. "There's a sizable oasis about an hour's ride to the west. We should find what we need there."

Sure enough, large patches of leafy green vines were near the miniature lake, crawling over the ground and boulders strewn about. Chambui showed him how to efficiently harvest the plant - it wasn't the green leaves they were after, but the brown roots.

"You can spin the roots and turn them into all sorts of things," Chambui explained with a smile upon her face. "The textile it makes is versatile, flexible, yet still durable. Just about every clan in the Steppe uses it in one way or another. Other than the grass itself, it's perhaps the most useful plant we have!"

"You certainly know a great deal about plants," Koretomo acknowledged, pausing to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow, before slicing away at another handful of kudzu. "How long have you been foraging?"

"Oh, since I was a little girl," Chambui answered, continuing to grasp and slice away at the kudzu roots with frightening speed as she spoke. "I've always liked plants. People often think that they're simple and predictable, not at all like animals, but that's not true at all. Vines, flowers, even grass, it can all be very picky about when it does and doesn't want to grow. Very temperamental."

"How do you mean?" Koretomo asked.

"The Steppe is a harsh place," Chambui explained. "The soil is poor. It is far from ideal conditions for plant growth, yet the flora here has adapted to be resilient. It survives in unexpected ways."

"Look at this, for example," she said, calling Koretomo over to examine a white flower. "This wildflower only spreads its seeds during the season of storms. It uses the strong wind to scatter its seeds, and they can survive a great deal of over-watering that would drown many other plants. It turned its challenges into an advantage."

"Much like the Xaela," Koretomo admitted. "Adversity makes you strong..."

"Tsuji says similar things," Chambui nodded. "Go ahead and take a break for a while, refill your waterskin. I can see that you are slowing down."

Glancing at her basket, Koretomo realized just how hopelessly outclassed he was. His companion had harvested easily ten times as many plants as he had.

"You don't mind?" Koretomo asked. "T'is a shameful thing, to make a woman work while I lounge."

"Then don't lounge," Chambui giggled. "Keep watch! It can be easy to lose track of your surroundings, when you're deep into your own work, and that's dangerous. I like working in groups. It gives you someone to talk with and pass the time faster."

"Alright," Koretomo nodded. "Thank you."

Chambui taught him about many kinds of plants and their practical applications - the white wildflower could be boiled into a tea that fought fever, a red lichen growing on rocky boulders could be balled up and fed to sheep to cure indigestion, and a yellow weed growing beneath the surface of the water could be distilled into a poison that would inflict irresistible drowsiness. Clouds passed lazily overhead as they worked, the sun creeping towards the horizon, and Koretomo found that time passed swiftly in Chambui's company. Calling it a day while they still had ample sunlight, the pair mounted up and headed back to camp.

Upon their return, the two checked their materials in with the supplymaster. Having focused on gathering the kudzu for his clothing, Koretomo didn't have quite enough to trade for the wood for his staff. However, Chambui had insisted on giving him some of what she had gathered to make the difference.

"Are you certain about this?" he asked. "I don't feel as if I truly deserve your generosity."

"No one is alone on the Steppe," Chambui smiled. "We live and die by our neighbor's actions. If there is one universal law among all the clans, it is hospitality. We can provide what the land will not. But if you remain unsatisfied, then you can work off your guilt tomorrow! I'd be happy to teach you more of foraging."

With a friendly wave, Chambui departed for the evening, leaving Koretomo bewilderingly gazing at the piece of lumber the supplymaster had handed him. These people were so... _different._ He had such wildly contrasting expectations - everything he had been told about the Xaela cast them off as crude, vicious barbarians. Uncouth, uncultured, and unintelligent. But there were so many people here, surviving in such a harsh land...they were undoubtedly resourceful. And their trials were harsh, but fair.

"How do they do it?" he muttered to himself, gripping the piece of wood tightly between his fingers as he walked off towards the fletcher.

* * *

The next morning, Koretomo sought out Ogele, the shepard of the Malaguld's flocks. He was easy to find, standing among the grazing animals. Ogele was a tower of a man, as tall as three fat sheep stacked on top of each other. He took note of Koretomo's approach, nodding sagely at him.

"The trial seeker," Ogele said quietly. "Khan Gozan explained your arrival."

"Greetings," Koretomo said, bowing politely. "I am Koretomo, and I am come to learn, if you will have me."

"Come," Ogele nodded.

Following him, Koretomo was led to an open pavilion full of various tools - knives, shears, crooks, and so forth. Ogele took two pairs of items from the tent and handed one to Koretomo - a shovel and a bucket.

"We will gather the sheep's dropping today," Ogele explained, heading out into the pasture without another word. Taking that he was meant to work alongside him, Koretomo hurried after him.

"Ech," Koretomo winced, trying to avoid breathing through his nose as he began to work. In truth, the smell wasn't that bad. He was, after all, accustomed to filthy waterways and underground tunnels. But the scents of so many animals in close proximity was offensively alien to his senses. The sheep paid him little mind, lazily moving about as he shoveled up their excrement, even as they continued to produce it.

"Give them a little nudge with the shovel if you need them to move," Ogele explained. "A harsher tap if they are stubborn."

The pair did not talk for some time, simply focusing on their work.

"Do you know why we gather their droppings?" Ogele eventually asked.

"To burn it as fuel, I imagine," Koretomo answered, planting his shovel in the ground and pausing to stretch. "There's not much available as kindling."

"Aye," Ogele nodded. "And tending to them regularly prevents the animals from walking in their own filth. Keeps the stink down. And tell me, what else do we receive from sheep?"

"Well wool, obviously," Koretomo answered. "Meat, once slaughtered, and milk too."

"Every part of an animal must be put to use," Ogele nodded again. "The bones, the hooves, the horns. Even the blood has its uses."

The pair resumed their work in silence for another long while. Starting to sweat, Koretomo was becoming painfully aware of how out of place his clothes were, and the animal stink was doubtlessly making them worse. After about half an hour, his bucket was finally filled, and he presented it to Ogele.

"Good," he nodded. "You are wondering what my trial is."

"Of course," Koretomo said.

"My trial is simple," Ogele shrugged. "Frequently, I will require seekers to break in a horse. You have your own, but it is plain you are unfamiliar with riding."

"How can you tell that?" Koretomo questioned.

"The way you walk," Ogele nodded. "The way you carry yourself. How you act gingerly around the flock, stepping around them delicately. You lack familiarity with animals."

"Well, you're not wrong," Koretomo admitted. "I spent more time on horseback getting here than I've spent in my entire life."

"For my trial," Ogele continued, "you must equip your horse with a saddle, reins, and bags, without any assistance. I would then have you mount up and ride around the village's exterior within a certain time limit. Finally, I would release a single sheep from the flock. You must then guide it back to the herd, without any equipment or physically interacting with it in any way, without ever getting off your horse. Should you fail, you must dismount, take everything off, and start from the beginning."

"That is all," Ogele concluded, nodding with a serious expression on his face. "Do you believe yourself capable of that?"

"Err..." Koretomo bit his lip as he pictured himself attempting the series of tasks. "No, I can't say I do. I don't know the first thing about herding animals or putting on riding equipment."

"I should rephrase," Ogele corrected. "Do you believe yourself capable of becoming capable of that?"

"That, I can answer confidently," Koretomo smiled, crossing his arms and nodding. "Yes. The only way to get better is to practice, no?"

"A good answer," Ogele nodded. "It is well that you are taking this seriously. It cannot be understated - the health of the flock is the health of the tribe. And a rider's life depends on understanding and respecting their mount. Even the youngest child knows these truths."

"Come," Ogele beckoned, turning and walking towards a different part of the camp. "To the stables. Watch, and I shall teach..."

* * *

Later that day, after he had finished with Ogele's lessons, Koretomo found himself sitting on the grass, wolfing down a particularly delicious meat stew when Chambui approached him, her arms folded behind her back as a great smile danced across her face.

"Koretomo!" she beamed. "I have something for you."

"Mm?" Koretomo hummed, hurriedly slurping down the last of the stew.

"Ta-dah!" Chambui giggled, swinging her arms around to reveal what she was holding - a long robe of red and white, a similar outfit to what the rest of the tribe wore.

"That's for me?" Koretomo blinked, having to do a double-take. "Did you make that, Chambui? I thought the supplymaster gave the materials to the weavers."

"I am a weaver!" Chambui explained with a laugh, gesturing for him to take the garment. "I wanted to make it myself, since I saw how diligently you were trying to learn. Kudzu is a wonderful material, though it is rather tedious to work with. It should fit you - go on, take it and try it on!"

"I...I don't know what to say," Koretomo gulped. "Thank you, Chambui. It...it is more than I deserve."

"I don't think that's true at all," Chambui frowned. "I think you have a good heart, Koretomo. Please, don't be so hard on yourself!"

"I...right." Koretomo nodded, not wanting to give voice to his rebuttal. "Thank you. I'll go put this on, then."

Hurriedly walking off to his ger, Koretomo shrugged off his ragged dogi and put on his new kudzu robe before returning to Chambui.

"So?" she questioned, watching him closely for a reaction. "How does it feel? Does it fit alright?"

"It's...very light," Koretomo explained. "And it's flexible, yet still warm and covering. And yes, it fits very well."

"Ah, good," Chambui said, breathing a sigh of relief. "You like it, then?"

"Yes!" Koretomo grinned. "I have to say, it's rather astonishing. I really wasn't expecting it to be so comfortable!"

"Wonderful!" Chambui beamed. "So, I haven't finished the gloves and boots yet, but I should have those soon. Oh, there wasn't enough materials for a hat - but actually, I was thinking that could be your trial. Gather all of the materials for a hat, and make it yourself. What do you think?"

"What do I think?" Koretomo blinked. "I'm the one being tested, aren't I? I just have to do whatever you ask, really."

"Hmm...that's true," Chambui said, humming thoughtfully as she tapped a finger against her chin.

"Alright!" she nodded to herself, before striking an imposing pose, dramatically pointing her finger at him and glaring fiercely. "In that case, I order you to make _two_ hats - one for me, too!"

"What do you think?" she giggled, dropping the facade. "I think I sounded pretty leader-ly just now."

"I'll say so," Koretomo chuckled. "I should be glad you aren't from Nagohama. I bet you would have demanded two _dozen_ hats, and all by the next morning, too."

"Were the leaders of your people truly so demanding?" Chambui frowned. "I am very curious about where you came from, if you will tell me."

"Hmm, well I didn't exactly work in a workshop, so I can't say that about every person in charge," Koretomo frowned. "But in general? Yes. As children, we are taught of the important of those above us - the emperor, his ministers and nobles, the merchants that fund them and the soldiers that protect it all. So we labor and sweat, giving what we produce to those best in a position to allocate it appropriately."

"That sounds similar to our supplymasters," Chambui hummed. "They take stock of everything and decide how best to manage it."

"If only it were so simple," Koretomo sighed. "Yours is a system of communal sharing and efficiency. Ours...is one susceptible to exploitation by man's basest instincts. Envy, jealousy, greed...there is never enough, for some people. Enough money, enough land, enough followers. Why share for the good of all, when you can hoard it for yourself?"

"Because it's the right thing to do, isn't it?" Chambui said. "All peoples are stronger when they work together. Everyone knows that."

"But that's the thing," Koretomo continued, shaking his head. "Of course, everyone's lived would be better if we all worked together to share resources as efficiently as we could. But the people in charge don't _care_ about that. They care about their own power, and increasing it and protecting it. Tell me, what would happen if you took some meat from the supply master without asking? And say someone saw you do it. What would happen?"

"I would be rightfully called a thief," Chambui frowned. "I would be taken before Khan Gozan to receive his judgment."

"And what would his judgment be?" Koretomo questioned.

"Likely, he would explain how what I did was wrong," Chambui answered. "He would show me how I was hurting people, how I was making the tribe weaker with my selfish act. And I would be expected to perform labor or give something to make up for what I had done."

"I see," Koretomo nodded. "In Nagohama, if a guard caught you stealing something from the markets? He would draw his blade and sever your hand, right then and there."

"S-sever your hand?!" Chambui gasped. "But...why? How does that help?"

"It's not about helping or solving the problem," Koretomo said, shaking his head. "It's about sending a message. The one the goods belong to is saying 'I have power, and you don't.' And if you try to upset that power? They make an example out of you. Tell me, if Khan Gozan did something that many of the clan members didn't agree with, what would you do?"

"The whole tribe would convene to discuss it," Chambui said. "We would tell the Khan directly - or the council members - what we think. If we don't have an obvious consensus, then we would vote on what should be done."

"And what if even then, he refused to agree with the group's decision?" Koretomo asked. "What would happen then?"

"Well, if the council voted against him too, he would have to step down from being Khan," Chambui answered. "It's the Khan's duty to do what it's best for the tribe. All the adults of the tribe choose the Khan, depending on who they think is best fit for the role."

"So you elect your leaders?" Koretomo blinked. "Intriguing. In Nagohama, it is illegal to criticize the daimyo or any high-ranking nobles. To defy that rule is to invite punishment - as I did."

Chambui gripped her arm, looking away from him.

"Is that why you had to flee?" she asked timidly.

"Aye," Koretomo sighed. "And I knew how damned stupid it was. It would have been easy to avoid - to bow my head, to say the right words. My friends...they warned me not to. But...I just...I couldn't. I couldn't stop myself. Not after that."

"After that?" Chambui repeated.

Koretomo opened his mouth, but felt the words die in his throat. A flood of different emotions raced through him - rage, sorrow, self-loathing, and guilt.

"I...I'm sorry," he said. "It's...it's difficult for me to say more. Perhaps another time."

"Oh," Chambui said weakly. "I...I'm sorry. I did not mean to press you."

"There's nothing to apologize for," Koretomo smiled sadly. "It's just my own weakness talking. None of this would have happened if I wasn't such a damned fool."

"I do not think that is true," Chambui said, shaking her head firmly. "I...I do not know what you went through. This I know. But it sounds like...you grew up in a very harsh and unfair place. In that sense, I think it is like the Steppe. And it sounds like you had to go through something awful...and even if it's a difficult place, it was still your home. And...it takes strength to flee from your home."

"I didn't exactly have a choice," Koretomo frowned.

"But you didn't let it break you," Chambui said, stamping her foot. "There have been others like you before. They were...crushed, under the weight of their burdens. Their guilt, and their despair. But you...you made it here, didn't you? You are still here!"

"So please," she said softly, "you may have made mistakes, but don't call yourself weak, or a fool. You...deserve better than that."

He...deserved better? Could she really declare that so confidently? She had only known him for a handful of days!

Koretomo bit his lip, resisting the urge to say something. He made a foolish mistake, there could be no doubting that. But...how many more were there, like him? How many sent fleeing, how many crushed underfoot, because they dared to disagree?

Raen society was rotten, corrupt to the core. But...he couldn't just use that as an excuse. It was too easy.

"I'll leave you be," Chambui said, offering a gentle smile. "I'll let you know when I've finished your gloves. Oh, and...Koretomo?"

Shaken from his thoughts, he glanced up at her.

"I'm happy to listen whenever you feel like sharing," she said warmly, tapping her fingers against her chest. "And if you don't want to, that's okay too. So just...do your best, alright?"

"I will," Koretomo nodded, his smile returning. "Thank you, Chambui. I'll work hard to repay everyone's kindness. I promise."

Satisfied, Chambui gave him a nod, turning and walking away. Koretomo gathered up his bowl of stew and set about washing it out before returning to the cooks.

He had a lot of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend looking at the '51 Scales' artwork from ojjyaff : https://ojiyaff.tumblr.com/tagged/51scales
> 
> He drew a piece of art capturing the personality of each major tribe. Here's one for the Ura, where I got the idea of a trade caravan from: https://i.imgur.com/lTp3gqm.png
> 
> Here's his portrayal of the Malaguld, which inspired one of this chapter's scenes: https://i.imgur.com/i1BpROG.png
> 
> Also, here's an article of the 51 major tribes (most of whom are not represented in-game) and some quick descriptions of them: https://ffxiv.consolegameswiki.com/wiki/Xaela#Known_Xaela_Tribes
> 
> Like a lot of other people, the Steppe was a highlight of Stormblood's story to me. I love the area's design and how different the tribes can be to each other! When I was deciding on my character's name and appearance, I eventually settled on a Raen, since the Malaguld being this friendly, diplomatic tribe were just too interesting to pass up. The Malaguld's values are very in line with the Warrior of Light's, so I started from there and worked backwards while I brainstormed the story.


	10. Year 1517 of the Sixth Astral Era - Part 3

**A few days later...**

Koretomo was grooming his horse when he noticed a half-dozen riders strolling into the village. He didn't recognize them, but they were all wearing the clan's colors - perhaps they were away on an expedition before he had arrived?

"Noticed them, did you?" Ogele asked, coming up to his side. "That is good. Your sense of awareness is becoming sharper."

"Who are they?" Koretomo asked.

"Hunters," Ogele nodded. "Returning from a _nerge_ with another clan."

"Nerge?" Koretomo repeated. "That word is new to me."

"Do you see the woman at the front of the group?" Ogele asked, pointing her out. "She, the Xaela with the black hair. That is Qara. She directs our diplomacy and trade with other tribes. Ask her what a nerge is."

"Oh, that's Qara?" Koretomo blinked. "I'm supposed to do a trial for her, too. No wonder I couldn't find her."

"It's not uncommon for her to be away from the camp," Ogele nodded. "Go and see her once you're done here. We can move our herding lessons to another time."

"Understood," Koretomo nodded. "Thank you, Ogele."

The gentle giant simply nodded in return, turning his attention back to his own horse.

Once he finished cleaning his horse's hooves and mane, he fed her a Doman plum before setting off to speak with Qara. He found her at the supply center, speaking with the supplymaster. He waited patiently nearby for her to finish before approaching. She was an older woman, with long black hair that reached her shoulders.

"Ah!" Qara beamed, noticing his approach and holding out her hand in welcome. "You're a new face! Qara Malaguld, it's nice to meet you!"

"Koretomo," he replied, taking her hand and shaking it. "Fair morning to you."

"Just Koretomo, eh?" she questioned.

"Well, yes," he nodded. "I'm not a member of your tribe, so I have no right to use Malaguld. And only soldiers or nobles are permitted to have surnames, among the Raen."

"Of course," Qara nodded. "What was your title, then?"

"You're well informed," Koretomo blinked. Though Raen were not permitted surnames, for the sake of convenience when referring to one another, they would take unofficial ones that related to their profession. "As an academic, my title would translate roughly to 'Earth Seeker', as I sought to understand the laws of the natural world."

"Ah, a man of science," Qara grinned. "From Nagohama, perhaps? Or one of the smaller cities?"

"Nagohama, aye," Koretomo nodded. "You're very well versed in Raen life, I have to say."

"Well, of course," she shrugged. "We could hardly have favorable interactions with other groups if we didn't understand their ways of life. We have trade routes with Raen villages, you know. Anyways, I take it you're seeking my trial, hmm?"

Koretomo nodded.

"Walk with me," she smiled.

"Where to?" Koretomo asked, starting to follow her as she walked towards the edge of the camp.

"Nowhere in particular," she shrugged. "So, as an outsider, I imagine you're curious about how our clan interacts with the others of the Steppe."

"I am," Koretomo nodded. "I know there are lots of clans. Just how many people are in the Malaguld, by the way?"

"Around sixteen-hundred or so," Qara answered, folding her arms behind her back as she walked. "Ours would be considered a moderately sized clan. There are hundreds of tiny clans, and fifty-one of significant size. A few hundred make up the smaller noteworthy clans, while the largest, the Adarkim, has more than ten-thousand members."

"That's less than I thought," Koretomo hummed. "There must be what, only a few hundred thousand Xaela on the Steppe, then?"

"Populations can but grow to fit their environment," Qara shrugged. "But conflict among clans keeps populations in check, as well."

Reaching the edge of the encampment, the pair began to walk along the exterior in a circle, chatting as they went.

"Everything I've ever been told about the Xaela has related to their savage, violent nature," Koretomo explained. "But everything your people have demonstrated to me so far speak of remarkable tolerance and generosity. So, does your clan have enemies amongst others? How do you avoid conflicts?"

"Like any beast, violence is in our hearts," Qara nodded. "And like with them, the main source of conflict is competition over resources. Simply, the best way to avoid that is to avoid getting too close to any one clan."

"Geographically, you mean," Koretomo concluded. "So your flocks and foragers don't start taking resources from other groups."

"Correct," Qara nodded. "It's important to have good relations with other clans, to keep up information and trade networks. Every clan plans their migration path with the movement of other clans close in mind, whether they desire war or peace. I am our clan's overseer in this regard - forging alliances, establishing trade, and ending conflicts."

"I arrived here by moving with an Ura caravan," Koretomo said. "Are they allies of yours?"

"Not so much allies," Qara explained. "But the Ura are mercantile in nature, and are the primary source of metals for many tribes. We enjoy fair trade relations with them. But to answer your earlier question...yes, we have enemies. Primarily, the largest, most aggressive clans who think they can simply use brute force to get their way...and they usually can."

"Usually?" Koretomo prompted.

"You must know when to pick your battles," Qara nodded. "It's a survival skill that every creature on the Steppe has. Will a gedan back away from a fresh corpse if another predator moves in on it? Most likely it will, cowardly and weak on its own as it is. But if it were desperate and starving...that would change things."

Koretomo's mind flashed back to that painful scene in Minister Jin's office. Knowing when to pick his battles...clearly, a skill he was sorely lacking.

"Some tribes, such as the Oronir, will demand offers of fealty and tribute," Qara continued. "Regardless of whether they are currently the champions of the Nadaam. Others like the Buduga will attack us without provocation, to kidnap our men for their own. To these, we pay lip service and offer tribute - the cost is simply lower than if we were to resist. Other tribes, such as the bloodthirsty Dotharl, are not so easily placated. In these situations, we want to make direct combat as unappealing as possible for them. Convincing others to gracefully take the path of least resistance - that is diplomacy."

"My kin have a proverb about such things," Koretomo nodded. "When seeking peace, the wise man offers one hand, and arms the other."

"A wise sentiment," Qara nodded. "Those who strive for peace must be ever prepared for war. Though we are eager to avoid bloodshed, we take great care to know the positions, desires, strengths, and weaknesses of other clans. We have strong relations with about a dozen other medium-sized clans. Pledging to come to each other's mutual defense if attacked, we avoid large-scale pressure from any one of the most powerful clans."

"This is all much more intricate than I realized," Koretomo said. "Your clan...in so many ways, its the opposite of what I expected."

"T'is always a pleasure to dispel such ignorance," Qara laughed. "Was there anything in particular you'd like to ask about?"

"Oh!" Koretomo exclaimed. "I nearly forgot. I was just working with Ogele, and he mentioned something called a _nerge._ What is that?"

"Ah," Qara nodded. "A nerge is a large-scale hunt, a cooperative effort arranged between multiple clans due to the sheer manpower required. Hundreds of riders will form an enormous circle around a section of the Steppe - slowly moving towards each other, shrinking the area within. The goal is to drive all manner of animals, from lowest shrew to mighty mammoth into the center of the circle. A gap will intentionally be left open in the circle, for when cornered, man and beast alike will fight to the death, but if given a hope of escape, they will take it. Once exhausted, all the creatures will be bombarded with arrows from multiple angles. It is an extremely productive endeavor, but the sheer scale of it requires a great deal of logistics and communication. Given the size of the event, and the effect it has on local animal populations, nerges are infrequent events. They are quite an important opportunity for clans to build trust, actually."

"And that's what you've just returned from?" Koretomo concluded.

"Yes, I was arranging a future nerge with the Hotgo and Kahkol clans," Qara nodded.

"Very interesting," Koretomo said, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Oh, one other thing comes to mind. You mentioned something called the Nadaam earlier. I think I've heard of that before. Some sort of yearly game between clans?"

"Game?" Qara chuckled. "No, no. The Nadaam is a sacred competition between all clans who vie for control of the Steppe. In fact...I could tell you about it, but I have a better idea. I think I'll make it your test."

"My test?" Koretomo blinked. "You don't want me to...participate?"

"No, no!" Qara stopped in her tracks, howling with laughter. "Oh, you wouldn't last a minute! Not that you'd even be allowed to participate." Shaking her head and composing herself, Qara turned to look towards the confused Koretomo.

"Whenever a group returns from another clan with favorable news, t'is tradition to gather around a bonfire that night," Qara explained. "I'm sure Ogele will have somewhere you can shovel to gather fuel, so make yourself useful until night falls. And when it does, we gather around our fires to share stories and songs. Now, I'll not ask you to sing, but tonight, I'll ask the Khan to share the tale of the Nadaam. Listen well, and repeat the tale to me later."

"Sounds simple enough," Koretomo nodded. "I take it there's more to it than that."

"We are happy to share, but you must be ready as well," Qara smiled. "After the Khan tells his tale, it will be your turn. You must share something with us around the fire - your personal history, a myth from your people, a folk song - whatever you wish."

"Absolutely anything, eh?" Koretomo said, scratching his chin. "That's almost too much freedom."

"Is there such a thing?" Qara laughed. "Well, I'd prefer if it wasn't some cruel or gruesome tale, or something that would frighten the children. I think a tale unique amongst the Raen might be a fair idea. Everyone loves to hear fascinating new tales, no?"

"Well, I thank you for not making me come up with something on the spot," Koretomo laughed. "I'll try to think of something."

* * *

Koretomo spent his morning gathering fuel for the fire, heading off to train with the clan's other mages afterwards. It was difficult work, weaving magic, and left him feeling mentally exhausted. Another geomancer explained that it was similar to the burning soreness after using a muscle - that the invisible weight pressing on him meant that his body was adapting to using such energies. Over time, his capacity for magic would grow as he started to channel it more efficiently. Eager for progress, he worked up quite an appetite, and reflected on his situation while he scarfed down his afternoon meal.

He simply had to grow stronger. That was the way of the Steppe - if he couldn't contribute to the clan, if he couldn't defend himself and others, he was no more than a liability.

"An outsider that had to defend others..." Koretomo mumbled to himself as a thought subtly slipped into his mind. Perhaps...yes, that tale could work!

With a confident nod, Koretomo finished his food before heading off to find Chambui, assisting her with her work until the sun began to slip past the horizon, bathing the grass in the resplendent fire-gold of the evening. As the light began to dim, more and more people began to crowd around around a great firepit in the center of the village, with Koretomo somehow finding himself sat right next to the Khan himself. Glancing around, Koretomo looked at the people that were still filtering in. There must have been a few hundred people - a large portion of the clan. Many of the clan's elders and children were given priority at the center of the group, sitting closest to the fire, while the adults stood in a large ring further back. All of the clan's leaders were there - Tsuji remained at her khan's side, as was her wont, while Ogele and Qara sat nearby, sharing in food and drink. Koretomo was quite delighted when Chambui appeared, smiling warmly and choosing to sit next to him.

"I believe it's about that time," Khan Gozan chuckled softly, sitting up and moving to crouch next to the fire. Taking out a flint and tinder, he struck until a spark caught on some dried grass, igniting the bonfire to the crowd's roaring cheer.

"My friends!" Gozan began, spreading out his arms as his booming voice effortlessly reached across the sprawling crowd. "My family. Ere we begin the festivities, I would share important tidings with you. For tonight, I am blessed with the burden of delivering good news! Qara has returned from her mission, and we are pleased to declare that a nerge with the Hotgo and Kahkol will take place in two moon's time!"

Gozan paused as the crowd whooped and cheered, smiling and slowly rotating, being sure to look many different people in the eyes.

"He's really a natural leader, isn't he?" Koretomo muttered to Chambui.

"Absolutely," she nodded, clapping along with the crowd. Once the crowd's spirits normalized, Gozan began again.

"I would ask interested hunters to give your name to the supplymaster," Gozan nodded to the crowd. "Fletchers, your tasks will be great in the coming days, for our quivers will need to be full to the brim. We will ensure you have ample wood for the arrows, however. Next, I have been asked by several when we next plan to migrate. For that answer, I will delegate to our mistress of the land, Chambui."

"T-thank you, Khan Gozan!" Chambui stammered, eyes wide as she rose to her feet. "I, um, it is my opinion that the local land remains in good condition for grazing, foraging, and hunting! At the rate our flock is currently eating, I estimate we should consider moving in three to four moons time!"

Chambui offered a quick bow, eager to sit back down and return the attention back to Gozan.

"I, for my part, agree with her assessment," Gozan declared, eliciting nods from Ogele, Chambui, and Qara . "As does the rest of our council. If anyone has concerns with our situation you are welcome to bring them up privately, as always."

Waiting a moment, Gozan scanned the crowd to see if anyone would react, before nodding again.

"Well then!" he grinned. "Gather closer to the fire's warmth, for tonight, I shall share the tale of Bardam, and the founding of the first Nadaam!"

Many of the children let out whoops of excitement, scrambling even closer to their khan. Judging from the interested murmuring from the rest of the crowd, Koretomo took that it was quite a popular tale.

"Our story begins more than two thousand years ago," Gozan began. "Like today, the Steppe was filled with myriad tribes - each wandering, competing, and fighting. For as long as there have been Xaela, we have craved challenge, deep in our hearts. Ever have we found greater strength in overcoming the challenges of our harsh homeland! And never - I say to you again, never! In the thousands of years we have spent upon the Steppe of Azim, never have the tribes been fully united. They clashed, with sword, fist, spell, and arrow, enriching the soil with the lifeblood of the fallen. The tribes battled for dominance, for pleasure, for unification, and for peace! And in their ceaseless conflict, the Xaela grew stagnant. Bled dry by each other, the tribes were weak, scattered, and small."

"But one day," Gozan continued, "one young man had a dream. A dream of a unified people, of one great clan that ruled the Steppe and everything in it! And aye, he was only Bardam, for his name was lost to us, his own clan disowning him for his folly. Thousands of warriors had tried before - greater and stronger than he ever was. None considered him, dismissing him as Bardam the Brash for his reckless dream. Unperturbed, Bardam wandered, fighting all manner of beast and throwing himself at every possible challenge, growing his strength. Eventually, he found himself at the entrance of a canyon, where he wondered if he would find what he needed to fulfill his dream. So with his hammers in each hand, he stepped forward."

"All manner of terrible beast threw themselves upon him," Gozan went on, crouching around the fire and raising his hands, accompanying his story with a range of hand motions and facial expressions. "He tested his strength, his endurance, his agility against the ferocious fangs and claws of the furious beasts - and found himself worthy! For his deeds, the wind whispered his name, marking him Bardam the Brave! And so he continued on, deeper into the valley, where the very earth itself began to move against him! Rock inhabited by spirit stood against him, and he traded with them, blow for blow! He brought down his hammers with crushing force, cracking the rock before shattering his foes into pieces! And in the glory of his conquest over such a mighty foe, the earth itself trembled, declaring him Bardam the Bold!"

Some of the young boys started play-fighting amongst each other, mimicking the act of swinging around massive hammers. Grinning, Gozan ruffled the hair on some of their heads before continuing his tale.

"Stepping through a great crack in the earth, Bardam the Bold continued forward. Eventually, he found himself in a chamber open to the sky - and a terrible screech rung in his ears as he approached. Under the beat of two great wings, a legend descended from the skies - a yol, larger and more fearsome than any had ever seen, and ready to tear him apart for daring to intrude on his eyrie! Grinning at the magnificent beast, Bardam was undaunted, and charged forward! The yol slashed at him with sharp talons, snapped at him with a ravenous beak! Though he landed blow after blow, the yol seemed sturdier than even the golems, refusing to fall! With great gusts from its wings, the yol flung wind as sharp as steel, slicing Bardam's flesh, and the floor was stained with crimson blood and torn feathers. Their battle raged like a great storm, both refusing to surrender to the other, until gradually, their strength reached their limits. Too exhausted to raise his hammers again, Bardam fell atop the yol. But to his surprise, the yol did not attempt to push him off, giving out a weak cry."

"Through their battle, Bardam felt a kinship with the creature, and did not wish to see such a splendid foe perish. So instead, he began to tend to its hurts - and the yol did not attempt to harm him as he tended to their wounds. T'was the first time that any man had ever tamed such a splendid beast. Once the pair of new allies had recovered, Bardam flew back to his old clan, descending from the sun as his shadow spread across the ground! He looked upon the shocked faces before him and declared...behold! I am Bardam the Bold, and I have done what no Xaela can claim! I have tamed the greatest beast in the Steppe, and now I will continue to do what no man has ever done. I will unite the tribes! Believing his arrival on the great yol to be a sign from Azim himself, the his former clan submitted to him, making him their khan. Never again, they swore, would they judge a man by his claims, but only by proof of his actions. They forswore words themselves, taking vows of silence, and became known as the Qestir. Next, he flew to the closest tribes, and repeated his declaration. And when they refused to join him, he challenged their greatest warriors to clash with him."

"And so a host of mighty warriors approached him. Each was skilled, each was strong, and yet none were a match. Man and beast fought together, in a glorious display of martial skill. Bardam fought until his enemies like broken before him, the tribe's will shattered, unable to deny his claim any longer. And so they joined him - with many other tribes falling in soon after. Bardam's conquest was vast and arduous, and he fought for years, conquering the tribes that resisted, while offering his hand to those who would join. Yet, for all of his might, Bardam soon found himself with a problem that strength could not conquer. He was but one man, and he could not be everywhere. It is not in the Xaela's nature to meekly submit, and whenever Bardam conquered one tribe and flew off to the next, a previous conquest would contemplate revolt. Whenever he stamped out one problem, three more arose."

"Recognizing the futility of his battle, Bardam realized that any great tribe he built, no matter how massive, would fall apart as soon as he was gone. He recognized that time itself was his greatest enemy, and would rob him of his strength ere long. And so he prayed for guidance - and in the shining moonlight of Nhaama, he found an answer. He would change his dream - he could not stop completely stop the conflict between the clans, but he could direct it. He could _focus_ it. And so, he flew to the very heart of the Steppe, and brought down his hammers with tremendous force, letting the crater mark the place where the sacred Ovoo would reside. He declared, to all of the steppes, that instead of constantly grappling for dominance, that any who were strong enough to follow in his footsteps would earn the right to fight once per year. The winner of this _Nadaam_ , he declared, need not be the strongest, but perhaps the cleverest, the fastest, or the one with the most allies. Whoever could claim the Ovoo first would reign over the Steppe until the next Nadaam, no matter which clan they belonged too."

"Bardam created a way for every clan to have a chance - and got them to focus their efforts onto the Nadaam instead of constantly fighting. Bardam declared the Nadaam to be the will of the gods, and he their messenger. One by one, all the tribes of the Steppe agreed, whether because they feared his wrath, sought their own chance at glory, or revered the will of Azim and Nhaama. For his part, Bardam declared that he would never participate in the Nadaam, but would test those who would. The Qestir would never win the Nadaam, but became its sacred caretakers - those responsible for gathering and scattering the soil each year, to signal the start. And so the tradition of the Nadaam was born...it was not the glorious, single tribe that Bardam had once dreamt of, but it was a union of sorts. A chance for the Xaela to move beyond their base nature - a chance to grow, to live for more than conquest."

The crowd murmured their approval as Gozan finished, clapping softly and giving approving nods.

"Through his example, we can see the wisdom of the creed the Malaguld have chosen," Gozan concluded. "That we should not turn away from our natures, nor wildly embrace them, but to be aware of them and give them ample respect. Just as we respect the danger of the Steppe, we must respect the danger of ourselves. We must know when to take up the sword...and when to lay it down. Through this lesson, I pray that one day all Xaela will recognize that we are more than the sum of our parts. Now, for our next tale, I would yield to our newest arrival, Koretomo."

Letting the crowd simmer for a moment, Gozan sat back down next to Koretomo, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I believe it's your turn, my friend," he grinned. "Don't worry about making a fool of yourself, eh? That too is a type of courage."

"Right then," Koretomo nodded, standing up and brushing off his clothes. Taking a deep breath, he collected his thoughts and cleared his throat...

"Well met!" Koretomo greeted, throwing wide his arms and copying Gozan's movements. "I am Koretomo, recently fled from a great city from the northern valleys. I have much to learn yet, but I hope to be useful to you all."

The crowd murmured curiously, some giving nods of approval. Koretomo waited a moment, slowly pivoting around and trying to make eye contact with many different people.

"The tale I would tell you tonight," he continued, "is a myth among my people. Long ago, there was a small but prosperous village at the foot of a great mountain. This village was known as Kamiki, and the land around it was covered with beautiful cherry trees that filled the air with their pink petals, dancing in the wind. Each and every tree among the village was revered as a god, and the people of Kamiki took great honor in their caretaking of nature."

Koretomo paused and nodded, letting his audience picture the scene.

"But Kamiki held a dangerous secret," he continued. "For there was a cave nearby a great lake, known as the Cave of the Moon. And in this dark pit of earth resided a great and terrible beast known as Orochi. Orochi had a body like that of a mountain, with eight dragon's heads, their necks like that of tree trunks. His bloody red eyes gleamed with malice, striking fear into the hearts of any who looked. No one dared to disobey the horrific beast. And this awful creature's appetite matched his size, and in order to sate his hunger, a young maiden from Kamiki village was offered as a sacrifice at the annual festival. For hundreds of years, this continued, and Orochi's hunger was pacified..."

"However, as the night of the festival drew near, a mysterious white wolf appeared near the village. With a coat as pure and white as snow, the villagers named it Shiranui. Shiranui made a habit of watching anyone who left the village, and was known to patrol the streets at night. Everyone assumed the wolf to be a familiar of Orochi, and regarded it fearfully. One warrior in the village took it upon himself to challenge the wolf. His name was Nagi, and he drew his blade many times, shouting, 'Begone, you wolf! Face me or flee!'. But try as he might, the wolf never did either. The swift wolf remained just beyond his reach, dodging any attack, and Nagi's efforts were thwarted. Before long, the night before the festival arrived, and a white plumed arrow fell from unnaturally dark skies, heralding the coming sacrifice. The arrow lodged itself in the home of Nami, the village's most beautiful maiden, who was also Nagi's lover."

"Enraged by the arrow and refusing to surrender his beloved's life, Nagi took up his blade and set out for the Cave of the Moon, determined to put an end to the great beast. The cave was home to a darkness as great as evil itself, and as Nagi stood bravely before the entrance, the beast made itself known to him with a furious roar. Eager to devour a second sacrifice, Orochi attacked, lashing out with eight maws of razor-sharp teeth. Nagi fought bravely, dodging the beast's attacks, and landed blow after blow upon Orochi, despite the overwhelming darkness. But the beast's scales were like iron, he had nary a scratch to show for his efforts. On and on he sliced, into the moonless night, until he found his strength leaving him. Exhausted from his long battle, he dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. He knew he was staring death in the face."

"But just as Orochi was closing in, eager to devour the nuisance, a great howl pierced the heavens. The white wolf, Shiranui, landed in front of Nagi as if to protect him. His white coat shone brilliantly in the darkness of the cave, and the wolf snarled at Orochi. Baring his fearsome claws, Shiranui leapt towards Orochi, who met him with a terrifying roar, ready for battle. The two beasts struggled wildly, clashing in the darkness. One of Orochi's heads spewed forth a great blast of flame, but Shiranui summoned a gust of divine wind to protect himself. Mysterious and terrifying, the clash continued. As Orochi closed in, sharp fangs glistening, a great tree suddenly burst forth from the earth, shielding the wolf. Nature and life itself seemed to be Shiranui's ally."

"Shiranui fought valiantly and sunk his fangs deep into Orochi's hide many times, but the mystical beast was not so easily beaten. After a long struggle, the wolf stood exhausted, his beautiful coat stained crimson from the many gashes on his body. Just as it seemed all was lost, the majestic Shiranui turned his head heavensward and let out a long howl. The black clouds above parted, revealing the celestial light of the crescent moon, illuminating the cave, glinting off of Nagi's sword. Nagi, who had been recovering in the darkness, took up his blade once again, and leapt into the air with supreme grace. With his foe now clearly visible below him, he brought down his sword in one mighty swing, severing one of Orochi's eight heads."

"Channeling all his strength into his scarred and battered arms, Nagi struck again and again, his sword dancing in his hands like a puppet on a string, and one by one, Orochi's heads fell from their owner. In that instant, the curse that plagued Kamiki was lifted, gracing it once again with the light of the heavens. However, Shiranui had succumbed to Orochi's poison, and was struggling to breathe. Scooping the wolf into his arms, Nagi carried him home, ignoring his own hurts and gently placing his former foe upon the ground. By that time, Shiranui was no longer moving. The village elder gently rubbed the wolf's head, and he let out one last soft bark before closing his eyes, as if drifting off to slumber."

"Peace had once again returned to the village. In honor of their savior, the villagers erected a shrine with a statue of the wolf. They prayed to it every year, in place of Orochi's horrid rituals. Nagi's sword was christened 'Tsukuyomi' and was placed inside the Cave of the Moon, to guard it forevermore and seal Orochi's foul spirit inside. The future was full of hope, and the villagers looked forward to an age of endless peace."

"That is not the end of the story," Koretomo concluded. "Nor was it the last the village would see of Shiranui. But for now, I shall end my tale here."

Koretomo's tale was met with soft applause and smiles of approval. One of the children ran up to him and tugged on his leg.

"Hey, hey!" he said. "That's not the end, right? The wolf didn't really die, right?"

"Well, I did say it wasn't the last time they saw him, right?" Koretomo chuckled. "You'll just have to wait if you want to hear the next part of the tale."

A few more of the children swarmed around him, pestering him for more details of the fight and assurances to the wolf's health, before a laughing Gozan gently dispersed them.

"Well now!" Gozan grinned. "I must confess, that surpassed my expectations. A good storyteller always leaves his audience wanting more, eh? I have to say that the children aren't the only ones looking forward to the continuation."

"I agree!" Chambui declared, springing to her feet. "That was a wonderful tale."

"My thanks," Koretomo smiled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "Though I mostly tried to mimic the khan. To tell the truth, talking in front of audiences isn't so unfamiliar to me. T'was a somewhat frequent occurrence, back at the academy. Though I confess, it was never with quite so large a crowd, nor with such dramatics."

"So, thank you," Koretomo added, offering a short bow. "This was an experience I'll not soon forget."

"Happy to have you," Gozan smiled, eliciting a nod of agreement from Chambui. "Keep up the hard work, and I think you'll fit in well."

"Now then!" Gozan boomed, turning his attention back to the crowd. "Who would like to go next?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bardam's Mettle was a great dungeon, and since I couldn't find any lore about it, I made my own! I think it also fits the Qestir pretty well as the 'neutral overseers' they are presented as.
> 
> Fans of the videogame Ōkami will recognize Koretomo's tale. It's a spectacular game and was critically acclaimed, but did not sell very well.
> 
> Boy, that game was an experience. There were two or three different points where the game was rising to a crescendo and I thought, wow, what a great experience! And then when I expected credits, the game just kept going! It's like there were two or three games worth of game in there, and it didn't overstay its welcome. Highly recommended - play on hard difficulty though, because it's a bit too easy.


	11. Year 1517 of the Sixth Astral Era - Part 4

**_A few months later..._ **

Koretomo rolled along the dirt, his fingers white-hot from the strength of his grip on his staff. His opponent slashed forward with her curved blade, sending forth a vicious sickle of air. Stomping his foot down, Koretome willed the earth to rise up, ripping a large chunk of earth from the soil, shielding himself from Tsuji's projectile.

As it always was with their duels, the objective was not to defeat her. As Tsuji changed her stance and dashed forward, Koretomo inhaled a great breath and thrust his staff forward, conjuring a mighty blast of wind to stay her advance. The swordswoman was nimble, however, darting out of the gale in the blink of an eye and charging towards him again.

Steady...he had to maintain control over his breath for the magic to flow...now!

Just as Tsuji got into slashing range, she brought her blade high, preparing to strike. Koretomo struck out his staff again, but this time jumped into the air. At the peak of his jump, he let loose another blast of wind, this time using it to push himself further away. He landed a fair distance away from his original position and stumbled a bit, but kept on his feet.

Tsuji paused, looking at him with her usually stony disposition.

"Enough," she nodded, sheathing her katana. "I am satisfied."

Lungs burning and chest heaving, Koretomo took a moment before walking over to her.

"Satisfied?" he repeated. "Then...I have your vote?"

"More or less," she shrugged. "You are still slow, but no longer the stumbling foal that you once were. You have a fair grasp over the basics, aye. But don't mistake me - these are merely the fundamentals, and no one is ever finished with them. Do not think this an invitation to cease your training. Warrior or no, the Steppe will ever seek to test you. See that you are not found wanting."

"I understand," Koretomo nodded. "I will continue to hone myself."

"See that you do," Tsuji said, turning to leave. "You may go. But I would suggest attending to your own hurts first. Consider it the final part of the trial."

Glancing down to examine himself, Koretomo saw that he was indeed covered with a number of small cuts and bruises, his clothes marred from Tsuji's windburn. Channeling the aether through his staff, a shimmering blue light enveloped his wounds one at a time. The healing magic amplified his natural healing a thousand fold, and his bleeding cuts knit themselves closed before his eyes.

"Still stings," Koretomo winced, the fading adrenaline revealing his pain. Tsuji was a harsh instructor, indeed...

Taking a drink from his waterskin, Koretomo wiped his brow and decided to head over to Ogele and the flock, determined to make productive use of the day. The flockmaster took notice of him, crouching next to a few of the many sheep under his watch.

"Fair timing, Koretomo," the shepard nodded. "I have a task for you. Of these three sheep, I believe one of them to harbor illness. Tell me which."

Ogele stepped back, offering no further guidance. Stepping forward, Koretomo crouched by the sheep, carefully examining their eyes, and pulling their mouths open to look inside. One sheep was particularly resistant to having its mouth examined, squirming and bleating petulantly.

"I think it's this one?" Koretomo questioned aloud. "The eyes are deeply bloodshot, and it seems to have sores in the mouth. The breath is also particularly foul."

"Aye, well spotted," Ogele nodded. "The head is also quite warm to the touch, so a contagious flu seems most likely."

Ogele's words hung in the air for a moment, the flow of the wind occupying the silence.

"You know what I would ask of you next," Ogele nodded, handing him two small stones imbued with the symbol of a flame on it. "See it done."

Nodding, Koretomo took out his staff, tapping the infected sheep's flanks and clicking and whistling at it, instructing it to follow as he had learned, guiding it a fair distance away from the camp. The animal was not cooperative and dragged out the process as much as possible, requiring many corrective taps from the staff when it tried to return to the flock. Ogele had resumed attending to the rest of the flock, but Koretomo knew he was watching closely.

"I am sorry, little one," Koretomo sighed, reaching down to scratch the sheep behind the ears. "But we cannot take the risk."

After struggling to get the sheep to sit down, Koretomo again reached out to the earth with his magic, bringing forth a large slab of stone. Unlike his duel with Tsuji, this was not a defensive measure. Koretomo willed the stone down, bringing it upon the uneasy animal's skull with crushing force, killing it instantly. The sheep slumped over, dead, and Koretomo crouched down next to the corpse. Striking together the two emberstones he had been loaned, Koretomo caused an ignition that engulfed the sheep's wool, quickly spreading and consuming the animal in a blaze. Watching the fire cautiously, Koretomo piled soil in a ring around the burning carcass, subtly manipulating the wind currents to ensure the fire would not spread to the surrounding grass, as well as preventing the horrific smell of the burnt, diseased flesh from reaching his nostrils.

Once it had finished burning, Koretomo tore into the earth with his magic, swiftly creating a sizable hole and dumping the burnt remains inside, piling the soil atop it once again. His task finished, he returned to Ogele.

"Good," he nodded. "It is never appealing to kill an innocent animal, but we can afford no risks to our flocks. In such numbers, disease would spread like a rampant fire."

"And we would suffer a great deal for the loss," Koretomo nodded. "I'm...still not used to it. Killing things, I mean. But I know the importance of it."

"Then it means you value their lives with respect," Ogele concluded. "And that is well. Now, I take it you came to attempt the trial again?"

Koretome nodded, and Ogele turned towards the stables, gesturing for him to follow. The duo made their way to Koretomo's horse, and Ogele watched as Koretomo equipped his mount with riding equipment. Koretomo double-checked his handiwork as he went, making sure everything was appropriately fastened before climbing on. Ogele observed him in silence as he brought his mount towards the edge of the camp, carefully navigating through the obstacles in his way. This part, at least, had grown much easier to him. Once he was free of the camp, Koretomo exchanged a nod with Ogele before bringing his horse into a gallop, signalling the start of the time trial.

Ogele had been a minimalist instructor, gently guiding Koretomo towards his own conclusions rather than giving outright instructions. When it came to riding, his many failures were his best lessons. On his first attempt at the time trial, Koretomo had figured to keep his mount at top speed. But he had gravely underestimated the time it would take to travel all the way around the perimeter of the Malaguld's encampment. Winded, his mount slowed against his will, struggling to keep up. It was through this that he learned that this was not a race, but a marathon - a test of endurance more than simply speed. An understanding between mount and rider was required if he was to succeed. Koretomo had to know his horse's limits and how to push them, but not so hard as to exhaust the creature.

Whipping the reins, Koretomo urged his horse on, going about half the distance before pulling back, slowing down and allowing his mount a reprieve. He kept a more measured pace until he neared the end, where he whipped the reins again and again, drawing out as much of a burst of speed as he could get. Upon finishing his lap, Koretomo couldn't help but smile. It felt good! To experience such growth where before he had struggled to even get on and off the bloody saddle. To feel the wind rushing past his face, to have this growing bond of trust with such a majestic animal...what else could he do but grin?

"That was a significant improvement," Ogele nodded. "However, you were twelve seconds past the time limit."

"Twelve seconds?" Koretomo repeated, his amusement bursting forth in several chuckles. "Alright! That really is far better than last time. Twelve, eh? I can shave off twelve seconds, no problem."

Dismounting, Koretomo undid all of his work, detaching the saddle and other riding equipment. He took a while to stroke his horse's head, letting it slake its thirst for water before giving it a handful of tasty greens. It occured to Koretomo that, much like his old life in the academy, failure was the key to success. He could fail and fail again, so long as he figured out why things went wrong, he could learn, and he could adapt. Eventually, he would reach the right information, the right method, as long as he was willing to keep trying.

"A fine attitude to take," Ogele said, smiling in approval. "Now, show me again..."

* * *

**_Later that day..._ **

Koretomo was lost in thought.

Sitting alone on the grass near the edge of camp, he nibbled absentmindedly on some dried jerky. It was clear even out here among the wilds, that disease was an ever present threat. The populations of the Xaela tribes were not anywhere near as dense as the Raen city centers, but an outbreak of disease could prove incredibly devastating to a tribe regardless. Just how did the diseases spread out here, he wondered? Did that sheep from earlier contract the disease from a contaminated watering hole? That seemed unlikely, or the whole flock would have gotten sick. Perhaps a flower, or a parasitic vilekin?

"...hello? Koretomo?" a woman's voice brought him out of his thoughts. Shaking his head, he looked up to see Chambui standing next to him, bending forward to look at him with a curious expression.

"Ah, good," she smiled. "You _are_ still in there!"

"That oblivious, was I?" Koretomo sighed. "My apologies. I know it's dangerous to lose focus out here."

"We're still quite close to camp, so I doubt anything would have happened," Chambui nodded, taking a seat next to him. "Were you thinking of your old home?"

"I was," Koretomo admitted. "How did you know?"

"Well, it's not terribly difficult to guess," she giggled. "I know you didn't leave under ideal circumstances. No one ever joins us with all of their affairs neatly in order. And..."

Chambui's voice grew soft, her eyes falling to the side.

"When you quietly gaze off to the north, you always have such a sad look on your face," she explained. "But...I think today seemed a little better, just now."

"You're remarkably perceptive," Koretomo commented, his lips curling up into a smile. "Aye, you're not wrong. It...hurts, to think about what must be going on at home. Thinking about Tadanari twists my stomach into a knot. But...there's naught I can do about it, is there? So I've just...tried to avoid thinking about. Kept myself busy. And...yes, I think this place is starting to feel better to me. It's not so overwhelmingly unfamiliar anymore."

"I'm glad to hear that," Chambui smiled. "If you are willing, would you tell me about what you did before? You told me that you studied the ways of the world, yes? What did that involve?"

"It's funny you bring that up," Koretomo said. "That's what I was thinking about, actually. Earlier today, Ogele had me put down a sheep afflicted with some illness, likely contagious. Believe it or not, that was actually my field of study."

"You studied sheep?" Chambui asked, tilting her head. "Truly?"

"No, I studied contagious illness," Koretomo laughed. "Though, it may be inappropriate to laugh about such things, deadly as they are. In particular, my two friends and I were focused on one malady in particular, one known to us as grey rot. T'is where the scales grow weak and thin, falling from the body, accompanied by fever, sweats, and seriously upset bowels."

"This disease is known to us as well," Chambui nodded seriously. "Though by a different name."

"I'd be surprised if it wasn't here," Koretomo said. "Are your people aware of the nature of this disease? Because my colleagues and I were very certain that we discovered its true aspects."

"How do you mean?" Chambui asked. "We know it doesn't spread between people, at least."

"There exists organisms on this star of unimaginably small size," Koretomo explained. "A hundred times smaller than a grain of sand, and there are those yet below that."

"Truly?" Chambui frowned. "How do you even see such creatures?"

'With tools," Koretomo said. "A series of lenses can magnify light in a certain way, allowing you to see things in otherwise impossible detail. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that the disease spreads when people ingest contaminated water, and these minuscule creatures are unquestionably the culprits. If one avoids an infected water source or suitably purifies water drawn from one, there is no chance of contracting grey rot. In the case of Nagohama, we determined that contaminated waterways were leaking into communal pumps, which explains why - almost exclusively - people living near those pumps contracted the disease."

"How strange to think that life exists in such a form," Chambui hummed. "I would very much like to see these tiny things one day."

"Who knows?" Koretomo shrugged. "Though it may be difficult, there is yet a slim possibility of being able to procure such equipment. I imagine it might require a trip to Doma to find such delicately crafted and specific equipment, though."

"Then it sounds like you have a goal to aim for!" Chambui giggled. "That is good! Oh, but we must tell the khan of this! If grey rot can truly be so easily avoided, we must inform as many people as possible."

"Well, I'm not sure we can call it easily avoided," Koretomo frowned. "Without proper equipment, there isn't really a way to test water sources for the disease. Better to assume every source could be tainted, and purify them every time. But yes, you're right. I don't know how it didn't occur to me sooner, to be honest."

"You know," Koretomo said, suddenly possessed by a thought, "Chambui...I really have to thank you."

"You do?" she blinked. "For what?"

"Just for...being here," Koretomo explained, feeling his cheeks growing warm. "For teaching me, and...for listening. This would be a lot harder without you, so...thank you."

Chambui smiled at him in response, her face holding warmth greater than the evening sunset fading behind her.

"You're welcome," she said simply. "I'm glad to be of such help. And if listening will help you...would you tell me more of your cities? There is one thing that a traveler once mentioned...a place where dance and song and drama would be performed in elaborate costume, though I struggle to remember the name of it."

"Ah, you speak of kabuki theater," Koretomo chuckled. "I never had the time to attend more than a handful of performances, but they were greatly enjoyable."

Koretomo started relating his experience to her, answering Chambui's many questions about Nagohama, his work, and himself. Time passed easily in her company, and the two had to head back to camp before the sky grew even darker, pledging to continue their talks another time.

* * *

**_The next week..._ **

With the bonfire at the center of the camp roaring, a storyteller took a bow as she concluded her tale. Khan Gozan rose to his feet, clapping his hands together in a show of applause that the assembled crowd eagerly echoed.

"A fine tale indeed!" he chuckled. "And a fine lesson it held. Now then..."

"I did promise that would be the last story of the night," he continued, turning to face the crowd. "But ere we disperse for the night, there is one last matter I would have the Malaguld witness! Over these last moons, a traveler forced from a distant home has worked alongside you, learned with you, and shared his stories with you at this very fire. Like many before him and many yet to come, he seeks to join our clan. Tonight, I would have you all witness the results of his labors."

Nodding to his right-hand woman, Gozan took a step back as Tsuji approached him, the rest of the clan's council following suit. Koretomo joined them as well, standing before the five leaders arranged in a semicircle.

"Should I, ah, kneel?" he asked quietly, receiving a shake of the head and a giggle from Chambui.

"First, let us hear from Tsuji," Gozan acknowledged, yielding his spot to her.

Stepping forward, Tsuji looked Koretomo directly in the eyes, glancing at him up and down. She took a deep breath, and nodded to herself.

"This one is not a warrior, but he need not be," she declared aloud. "He has been made aware of the danger of the Steppe, and given ample tools and knowledge to protect himself and others. I am reasonably confident he will not be a liability. He has my vote."

At that, Gozan grinned as many members of the crowd gave approving nods.

"That's as close to praise as Tsuji gives, friend," he chuckled, receiving a shrug from the woman before she stepped back.

"He has my vote as well," Ogele declared, stepping forward next. "He understands the importance of our flocks and how to tend to them. He understands the importance of the horse and the bond between rider and mount."

Qara went next, stepping up with a big grin on her face.

"It's always a pleasure to have someone new come around, with new stories, new lessons, new perspectives," she said. "Having these makes the Malaguld stronger, and Koretomo has these qualities in abundance. I've taught him how our clan thrives in our harsh homeland, and I've seen him contribute to it's success. He has my vote as well."

Chambui followed, blushing fiercely and interlocking her hands behind her back.

"Koretomo is a good and kind man," she declared. "And one who has worked hard to adapt from the cruel twists life has given him! He recognizes the value and importance of the land's bounty, and I think he would make a welcome addition to our clan."

"For my own part," Gozan annouced, "I have spoken with many of you to ask how Koretomo treated with you. If he acted with respect to our people and our ways - and I can say that he did. Let it be known that I am also in favor...and that that brings us to a unanimous decision."

Crossing his arms and giving a nod of approval, Gozan's unusually serious gaze pierced through Koretomo, until he laughed and clapped him on the back.

"Well met, Koretomo Malaguld," Gozan grinned. "We are glad to have you."

"That's it?" Koretomo blinked. "Really, just like that?"

"Why not?" Gozan shrugged. "There is little need for drawn out ceremonies when your actions have already spoken for you. Celebrations, however...who doesn't love those?"

And so the night descended into festival, filling the air with laughter and song. Distant starlight shone down at the reveling crowd, the two moons illuminating their revelry. Gozan led the crowd in a dance around the fire, his voice booming with laughter and aplomb as he dragged the reluctant Tsuji alongside him. Many of the members of the crowd split off into couples or family groups, sharing food and drink. Dozens of people came up to Koretomo personally, offering him their welcome and congratulations. A flurry of names and faces struggled to compete in Koretomo's memory, and he found himself feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the attention.

"It's a bit dizzying, isn't it?" Chambui giggled, tugging at his sleeve. "Come dance with me, if you need a moment's respite."

"Alright," Koretomo smiled, "but you'll have to show me how."

"I'll teach you the yol dance!" she beamed. "It's easy, just follow my lead..."

Chambui taught him a simple dance that involved keeping balance while hopping in place on one foot at a time, while flapping one's elbows. It was more than a little silly, but that was of little concern when everyone's spirits were so high. As the celebration went on into the night, Gozan found a moment to pull Koretomo aside, ribbing him in the side with his elbow.

"Having fun?" Gozan grinned, giving him a knowing look.

"Yes, very much," Koretomo happily admitted. "This is so unlike anything I've experienced before. It's...well, I like it. A great deal."

"Good to hear," Gozan nodded, his grin growing even wider. "Then let me give you some friendly advice, from one Malaguld man to another, eh?"

"What's that?" Koretomo asked.

"You should hurry and propose to Chambui already," Gozan laughed, clapping him on the back again. "She has no shortage of suitors, you know."

"I...you think?" Koretomo faltered. "It's that obvious, is it?"

"You two look at each other like a pair of lovestruck Qalli," Gozan smirked. "Yes, it's rather plain to see, my friend. The Steppe waits for no one - so if you're going to ask, do it swiftly."

The realization pierced Koretomo to his core. He could not deny, he had strong feelings for her. She had been immensely kind and helpful to him, and her beauty and grace were plain for any to see. But...

What about Yuki? He couldn't deny his feelings for her, either. Although...he had no idea if he would ever even see her again.

"Ah...Koretomo?" Chambui's voice shook him from his thoughts, and he turned to look at the woman at his side. "Could I borrow you for a moment?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"This way," Chambui said, gesturing towards the camp's supply center. "There's, um, something I'd like to...give you."

"You seem anxious," Koretomo frowned as he began to follow her. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Chambui smiled, nodding in assurance. "You asking that makes me all the more certain."

Curious at what she had in mind, Koretomo let her lead him towards the supply center. She asked him to wait behind a ger near the edge of the camp while she fetched something.

"It's a surprise," she giggled, when he asked her what it was.

Koretomo passed the time staring up at the gentle light of the moons, letting the pale glow wash away his thoughts. Closing his eyes, he was content to simply be in that moment, listening to the wind rush through the grass, the sounds of distant merriment still ongoing. After a few minutes, he heard footsteps approaching him, and opened his eyes to see Chambui, holding something behind her back.

"I take it that's what you want to give me?" Koretomo said, cocking his head. "Am I to guess what it is?"

"You don't have to guess," she giggled. "Though I would be very surprised if you managed to."

Unveiling her arms, Chambui revealed a delicate, blue flower she was holding in her palms, with the stem still attached. The petals glowed faintly, tiny speckles of white shining among the blue like miniature stars.

"I want you to have this," Chambui said softly, holding it out for Koretomo to take.

"It's beautiful, Chambui," Koretomo said, awed by the unexpected gift. "I've never seen a flower glow like that..."

Chambui's smile grew, and she crossed her arms behind her back again. She rose to her tiptoes before coming back down again, subtly swinging her body around. She seemed to be waiting for something...

"It really is splendid," Koretomo added. "Where did you find it?"

"I didn't find it," Chambui corrected gently. "I...grew it."

"I see, I see," Koretomo nodded. "Err...not to sound ungrateful, but...what would you like me to do with this? It will wilt now that it's out of the ground, yes? Should I place it in a vase with water to keep it alive?"

Chambui's expression flattened for a moment, before her blank face burst into a fit of giggles. She laughed so hard that she had to clutch at her sides, wiping a drop of wetness from her eyes.

"Did I, ah...say something funny?" Koretomo asked, scratching his head.

"No, no!" Chambui answered, struggling to stop laughing as she shook her head. "I'm laughing at...I'm just laughing at me!"

Koretomo strained to smile, happy to see her so entertained but still deeply confused as to the reason.

"Ah, how silly of me," Chambui gasped, eventually catching her breath. "Of course you wouldn't know. Forgive me."

"I take it there's some sort of significance to this flower?" Koretomo questioned.

"Yes, very much so," Chambui smiled. "That particular flower is called a starbloom. It's very delicate, and doesn't appear very often in the wild. It needs quite a lot of nutrients to grow and not that I mean to boast, but it is actually quite difficult to grow one, so to receive one as a gift almost certainly means that someone planted and tended to it before cutting it. And, um, it is also takes a long while from planting to blooming, which means that to harvest it, the clan would need to linger in one area for a considerable amount of time. And if that happens, it means the clan is likely at a verdant, fertile area, which speaks to a clan's prosperity and strength, so, um, given starbloom's rarity and symbolic significance..."

Chambui's voice trailed off, growing much quieter as she fidgeted with her hands.

"Giving a starbloom as a gift is widely understood to be a, um...proposal of marriage," Chambui explained, her cheeks flaring with intense warmth.

"Ah, I see," Koretomo said, nodding sagely. "Then...you...oh. Oh!"

Eyes widening, Koretomo's words failed him. He could do naught but look at Chambui, who continued to fidget as she met his eyes hopefully.

"I...I don't know what to say," Koretomo admitted.

"A yes or a no, I would think," Chambui laughed nervously, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact any longer.

"I...I want to say yes," Koretomo explained. "Truly, Chambui, I do. But...I have to be honest with you."

"You had someone back home, right?" Chambui prompted. "Someone else..."

"I...yes," he nodded. "Her name was...is...Yuki. I care for you deeply, Chambui, and I'm more than a little relieved that you share my feelings. But...inside, I feel so...torn. If fate hadn't torn us apart, I probably would have married her. And now...well, it's not certain, but it's been nearly a year now, and I may very well never see her again for the rest of my life. So...as much as I want to say yes, my heart tells me...it feels like I'm betraying her..."

Memories of Yuki flashed through his mind. Her beautiful golden hair, her warm smile, so much like Chambui's...and her letter, the last trace of her he had.

"I'm sorry," Chambui frowned, a deep gloom taking over her expression. "I...figured something like that was the case. But I...I asked anyway. I'm sorry...to make you go through something so terrible..."

Dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve, Chambui began to turn and move away.

"Wait!" Koretomo pleaded, holding up a hand. "Chambui...that wasn't a no. I know it's cruel to even ask, but...could you give me some time? I...need to sort my thoughts. Reflect. So...don't apologize, alright? You haven't done anything wrong."

She sniffed, nodding wordlessly. Koretomo stepped closer, wiping away her tears with his own sleeve, brushing a hand against her face.

"Thank you," he smiled. "I won't make you wait long. I promise."

"Alright," she said, finally returning his smile. "It's a promise, then."

* * *

**_The next day..._ **

Koretomo was sat upon the grass, a piece of parchment held in his hands. His eyes traced over it for the thousandth time, carefully taking in every word. And as he reached the end, one phrase stuck out in his mind.

_I pray for you to be happy._

As she was preparing this emergency escape, Yuki surely had to be aware of the possibility that they might never reunite. Yes, there was a chance that Tadanari's wrath would fade, or that he would suddenly take ill and die. But it was a vague chance, a game of numbers with odds unknown to all participants.

"I pray for you to be happy," Koretomo sighed softly, slumping backwards, bracing himself with his arms upon the grass.

Was that her giving permission to love someone else? Or was that his wishful interpretation?

No...he had to have faith in Yuki. She was a brilliant woman, and ever the pragmatic realist. Like his, her heart was surely aching - but she would not let that break her. She would move on.

So should he cling to the vague hope of a possible reunion in some two year's time? Perhaps the best he could hope for was a way to write letters to each other. And if he pushed Chambui away, only to wait for a love that may never return...he could hardly expect her to wait, to maintain her feelings until it was convenient for him.

Koretomo hopped to his feet, brushing off his clothes. He had made his decision.

"I'm sorry, Yuki," he spoke to the rustling wind. "I was a fool, and my mistake drove us apart. I loved you...and I still do. If we ever meet again...I hope you'll be happy, too."

Committed to his path, Koretomo nodded to himself and turned to find Chambui. He had made her wait long enough.

He found her easily after a few minutes searching, having grown accustomed to her usual haunts. When he waved her over, she could tell immediately that he was ready to talk. Wrapping up what she was doing, she hurried over to him, and the two walked a short ways away from the camp for some privacy.

"I am ready to give you an answer," Koretomo nodded seriously. "But before I do...there's something else I have to tell you. A wrong I must apologize for."

"A wrong?" Chambui repeated. "I do not think you have done anything that requires an apology..."

"Not what I've done, but what I've thought," Koretomo frowned. "Back home...back at Nagohama...you see, Xaela aren't welcome there. They're turned away at the gates, cursed and spit on as...as filthy savages. Uneducated, uncultured barbarians."

Koretomo sat down cross-legged, and Chambui followed suit. Her features were contorted in a sad frown, but she remained quiet as Koretomo found the right words.

"People make jokes about them," he continued. "Constantly comparing ourselves to them, and finding ourselves their superiors in every way. More cultured, more spiritual, more intelligent, more prosperous. Better."

"Why are you telling me this?" Chambui asked softly.

"Because," Koretomo choked, his voice cracking with a flood of emotion. "I'm the same way! I thought those things too, I made the jokes, the comparisons! I always just...assumed those things were right. I just...it's everything an academic should stand against. To believe without proof, to buy into such...petty hatreds! And then to be forced to come here, to a place I feared, to somewhere I had been taught to look down upon with disgust...and to witness firsthand such true hospitality, such generosity...to be surrounded by so many instructors and welcome friends...it has shown me that I am not who I thought I was. Not nearly."

Smiling at him sadly, Chambui reached out, stroking his face with her hand and brushing aside a lock of his hair.

"I see," she said. "So that is another reason you felt so conflicted."

"It goes against all the Malaguld stand for," Koretomo said, head slinking low as his heart filled with a bitter regret. "So I understand if you wish to retract your proposal..."

"Retract?" Chambui cocked her head to the side, stifling a laugh with her mouth. "Why would I do that? Do you realize what you said, just now?"

"What I said?" Koretomo blinked.

"You changed," Chambui answered. "Do you think everyone arrives here with kindness and openness in their hearts? That any of us are utterly pure and selfless? Because we're not. We're just mortals. Frail, fallible people. But we can overcome our base instincts, can't we? To rise above them and conquer them by force of will. For if we could not, we would be no more than unthinking animals. So when you say that you held these hatreds...do you still claim to harbor them?"

"No!" Koretomo protested. "Of course not! How could I, after I have lived among your people for so long, worked alongside them? It's unthinkable!"

"Then that means you changed," Chambui smiled. "You abandoned something that you had always accepted as truth, seeing it for the falsehood that it was. That's not easy to do, no matter who you are. And besides...to change your view in accordance with what you have witnessed...to adapt it to the evidence that points to the truth. Is that not the process of science that you are so fond of?"

"I...I suppose," Koretomo faltered.

"Then please don't think that you've betrayed your principles, or anything like that," Chambui smiled, wetness starting to well in her eyes. "Because what you've felt only means that you've grown. You're not who you thought you were because you aren't him anymore. You grew past him."

Koretomo was quiet for a moment. Inhaling sharply through his nose, he closed his eyes and nodded, processing her words of wisdom.

"It's that simple, eh?" he chuckled softly. "I...I guess you're right. There I go making a fool of myself again, missing an answer in plain sight."

"A bright and gentle fool," Chambui corrected, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. "And one that I'm glad I met."

Echoing her embrace, Koretomo wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, nuzzling his head against hers. Her ran his fingers over her head, gently stroking her, basking in her warmth and her floral scent.

"Chambui," he said softly. "If you would still have me...then I would fain accept your proposal."

Chambui pulled her head back, looking up into his eyes and smiling. No further words were needed. The two pressed their lips together, gently kissing and embracing before pulling apart again.

"Would that I had the courage to have asked first," Koretomo chuckled. "Mayhap I'm still not quite used to how fast everything happens out here. It feels passing strange to be proposed to by a woman, I have to admit."

"Mayhap our lives do seem fast," Chambui admitted. "But there is little call to hesitate in a land full of such challenge. We never know when our last morning may come. T'is better to be honest with one's desires, no?"

Koretomo could only agree with that sentiment.

The new couple held each other for a while longer, enjoying the moment of calm serenity before the passage of time began to pull them elsewhere. Their marriage ceremony would be held that very next evening, in much the same manner as all the clan's gathering and celebrations. Friends and families gathered around a roaring bonfire beneath a starry sky, singing, dancing, and feasting the night away under the watchful gaze of Nhaama's pale glow. They needed no priest to officiate them, nor fancy outfits or ceremonial spectacle - only good company to witness their vows to each other. Many people approached them to give their congratulations and provide gifts - small bits of food, useful objects and the like.

Many of the clan's children brought Chambui a variety of pretty flowers, woven into a simple laurel that she was delighted to wear. Ogele gifted the couple a marvellously crafted leather saddlebag, which would easily store all manner of foraged materials. Tsuji gifted him a small dagger, short and simple, but sharp and well-crafted.

"To defend your new family," she said simply, pressing it into his hands.

Gozan was a man ever fond of festivals, and directed the crowd along many a song and dance, his booming laughter stretching far as he cheered for the new couple. He gifted Koretomo with a large jug full of a drink called _kumis,_ a type of alcohol brewed from mare's milk.

"Drink it all tonight or savor it for days to come," Gozan laughed. "The choice is yours, but enjoy this night to the fullest, my friend. May the two of you ever remember this joyous occasion. Just don't go distracting our master forager from her work, eh?"

The celebration went on well into the night, until drowsiness and exhaustion came to finally claim its toll. The two retired to a communal ger, laying next to each other and swiftly falling into slumber. Tomorrow, they would begin a shared task, as all newly married couples did. It was tradition for a new couple to build a new ger together, giving a suitable measure of privacy and space for the new family. And so with tired minds and easy hearts, the two dreamt of a hopeful future, one that they would be able to build together...


	12. Year 1521 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1521 of the Sixth Astral Era**

Yawning, Koretomo stretched out his arms, scratching the stubble on his chin. Three years had passed since he had last arrived in Hatari village, and the place seemed to have changed little. A handful of passing travelers milled about as a Xaela trade caravan saddled their goods, preparing to depart. It was the day after the lunar eclipse, the event that Yuki had proposed they attempt to coordinate a reunion around. Koretomo had arrived the day before, checking in with the local tavern keeper to see if anyone was waiting for him or if any messages had been left, but alas, he was the first to arrive.

He could not deny the anxiety he felt on the night of the eclipse, too worried about the fate of his friends to tear his eyes away from the road for long, even in the presence of such a beautiful, celestial event. Yet no one had arrived that night, and it was looking that this night was to be the same. He would wait for ten days, he had decided. If nothing came to pass, he would leave a letter and hope for the best.

Reaching into his pack, Koretomo pulled out a carving knife and a piece of wood, wrapped in cloth. If nothing else, he could keep himself busy during the time, whittling the wood into arrow shafts. Khan Gozan had given him some funds to procure some metal for the clan, but there were a few things he hoped to obtain for himself, as well. If he could pass the time productively, all the better. As the evening sun started to dip below the mountains, Koretomo found himself growing more absorbed in his work, being unable to make out the details of the last few travelers trickling into the town. As he sighed and prepared to retire to his room, he noticed a man on horseback wearing a large and circular straw hat.

He watched the man with some mild interest until he got close enough that he could make out the man's face.

"Izu?" Koretomo wondered aloud, his jaw dropping. "By the kami, is that really you?"

"Eh?" the mounted man took notice of him, glancing down. "K-Koretomo! By the divine, you're really here!"

Immediately dismounting, Izu hugged his friend, laughing and heartily clapping him on the shoulders.

"Gods, it's good to see you!" he grinned. "Sorry to keep you waiting, eh? Weather was worse than I would have liked, and I was never the best rider."

"You'll find I'm much improved in that aspect," Koretomo smirked. "But let's not chat out here in the cold. Come, I have a room at the inn."

Following him there, the two friends took up chairs inside the comfortably warm room, sharing a drink as they started swapping tales.

"So, is it just you?" Koretomo questioned. "What of Yuki?"

"Yuki is hale and healthy," Izu nodded. "Though unable to visit herself, I spoke with her before leaving, and she wishes you well. She's, ah..."

"With another?" Koretomo finished, smiling knowingly.

"Yes," Izu nodded. "She's, ah, with child, so she's not able to travel. I...wasn't sure how you would take the news."

"Well enough," Koretomo shrugged. "I've had three years to prepare for it. Besides, she's not alone."

"Oh?" Izu cocked his eyebrow in interest. "Met someone special out there, did you?"

"I certainly did," Koretomo chuckled, taking a drink. "So...do you know him? Is he...good?"

"Can't say I know him all too well, myself," Izu shrugged. "He's an actor, I believe. But...aye, he seems like a good fellow to me. If nothing else, you can trust Yuki's judgment."

"Good," Koretomo nodded. His voice was calm, and he wasn't sure what emotion he was feeling in that moment. "I'm happy for her. Tell me, then, what of Tadanari? Am I still a marked man?"

"On that note I have good news indeed," Izu grinned. "Tadanari is dead."

"Dead?!" Koretomo repeated. "What the hells happened?"

"He was outdone by a rival," Izu shrugged. "His political maneuvering bit off more than he could chew, and as a result, he was imprisoned and then executed for 'gross incompetence and unconscionable greed while in service to the state', if I remember correctly."

"Is it over, then?" Koretomo frowned, not daring to hope.

"It would seem so," Izu said happily. "The bastard's father died about a year after you left - a stroke, much like old Minister Jin. It was suspected that Tadanari had him poisoned to usurp his role, as well."

"Good riddance, then," Koretomo grimaced. "For his arrogance and his crimes, he truly deserved death. But what of your work? What have you two been doing?"

"Still studying and working at the academy," Izu shrugged. "Yuki has been working on civil engineering projects, housing and such. And since I know you're going to ask, no, there hasn't been another outbreak of grey rot."

"That is good news indeed," Koretomo nodded. "What of our project to rework the waterways? Do you think it possible to try again?"

"It's possible," Izu hummed, rubbing his chin. "The new Minister of Sciences is ruthless to his enemies, but he seems to be relatively reasonable. Unlike Tadanari, I don't think he would object to something that would profit him - as long as we could convince him of the project's value."

"I suppose that's as good as one can hope for from Nagohama," Koretomo sighed.

"So, what do you intend to do?" Izu asked. "Will you return home?"

"Well, that's the thing," Koretomo said, smiling sadly. "Nagohama isn't my home anymore. I've thought of returning for years...and I want to, I do. I want to continue our work, because I know how much people would benefit from it. But...it's not so simple anymore. I have a wife now, Izu. And a son, but recently brought into the world."

"Truly?" Izu grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "Congratulations, man! I had always thought you would make a good father one day."

"My thanks," Koretomo laughed. "But, I have an idea. Why not return with me? Come and see my new family. See how the Steppe truly is - because I assure you, your conception of it is not accurate. The Xaela are a people far greater than we were ever led to believe."

"I'd like that," Izu nodded. "I'm burning with curiosity, to be honest."

"Then we'll head out tomorrow morning, once we've finished at the market here," Koretomo nodded. "But there is much more I would hear from you, first!"

And so the two friends spent the night exchanging information, reminiscing about times past. They drank for a while, but refrained from overindulging, wanting to be rested for the trek back to the Malaguld.

* * *

Guiding his horse back towards the stables, Koretomo dismounted in one, smooth motion, already unpacking his saddlebags by the time Izu managed to stumble off his saddle.

"You weren't kidding," he grunted. "You really have gotten far better at riding."

"You have to, out here," Koretomo shrugged. "Horses aren't just animals on the Steppe. They're necessities...a way of life, even."

After depositing his goods at the camp's supply center, Koretomo gave his friend a brief tour, showing him around the many different ger, and explaining the various areas of the camp. Naturally, the ever-vigilant Tsuji noticed the stranger and regarded him with caution, but deferred to Koretomo's judgment with a silent nod. After his tour, Koretomo led his friend to a ger near the center of the village, telling him to wait outside for a moment. Entering through the ger's flap, Koretomo caught his wife's attention, smiling and telling her to come outside.

"Izu, this is my wife, Chambui," he introduced.

"Ah, it's a pleasure to be able to meet you!" Chambui smiled, offering a small bow of welcome. "I've heard much about you. The kami are kind indeed, that your reunion was possible."

The trio exchanged pleasantries for a while, the couple inviting their guest inside, sharing their food and drink with him. Eventually, the topic of conversation came back to the primary issue at hand.

"So, the man who wanted me dead has gone ahead to his own grave," Koretomo explained. "In other words, it's possible I could return."

"But of course there was no way he could make a decision like that without consulting you," Izu nodded. "So it was just another reason to tag along and see how he had been living all these years."

"I see," Chambui nodded. "Well, we have discussed this possibility before. Koretomo?"

"There's no way I can return," Koretomo said, shaking his head and smiling sadly. "I won't abandon my family or my clan. But you already knew as much. I can't participate in our old project from a thousand malms away, but...there is another possibility."

"What do you have in mind?" Izu asked.

"The Steppe has its own diseases, some familiar to us, others novel," Koretomo explained. "The Xaela have their own tragic encounters with such things, and their own ways of dealing with them. Though I cannot work on our old project, I could work on new ones."

"There are many herbal medicines we use from ingredients derived from the Steppe," Chambui nodded. "As well as those from the organs of creatures and monsters. We believe that there is a great wealth of natural resources that could be studied here."

"You propose a remote collaboration," Izu concluded.

"As best as we can, aye," Koretomo nodded. "Establishing a line of communication is simple enough, now that Tadanari is out of the picture. I will gladly share any findings with you, but there's not so much I can do without proper tools."

"So you need some laboratory equipment, eh?" Izu asked, stroking his chin. "I imagine I can get you some, aye. Though it will take some time - and it wouldn't be cheap, either. Doubly so since you'll need materials to keep up good maintenance, all on your own."

"We're prepared for that," Koretomo nodded. "In fact, if you hadn't show up at the village, I was planning to make a trip to Doma to purchase what I needed."

"We have ample resources available to trade," Chambui nodded. "Khan Gozan himself acknowledged the value of such research. Disease is a plague upon all peoples, and we would be glad to contribute however we can."

"Sounds like a plan," Izu grinned. "I'll draft up the specifics when-"

The trio were interrupted by the shrill cries of a child, prompting Chambui to hurry over.

"Woke the little one, did we?" Izu laughed.

"Not that it's a difficult feat," Koretomo said, rolling his eyes. "Gods, that night at the inn was heaven. Undisturbed sleep has become a true luxury..."

"Such is the price of parenthood," Izu chuckled. "I imagine Yuki will have similar woes in the future."

Chambui re-appeared from the ger, cradling a bundle of cloth to her chest. The baby boy had calmed down, chest rising and falling in steady breaths. A pair of stubby white horns poked out from the sides of the baby's temple, no more than tiny nubs at such a young age.

"There, there," she soothed. "It's alright..."

"What's his name?" Izu asked.

"Hisame," Koretomo nodded. "Named after a hero from an old fable."

"Ah, I think I know the one," Izu nodded. "Seems fitting."

"We decided that I would name him if our child was Raen," Koretomo shrugged. "And she would name him if his scales were black."

After lulling the child back into sleep, Chambui retired to attend to some tasks, leaving the two friends to continue their conversation. Izu would stay for a few days, learning more of the Malaguld and their ways before departing back towards Nagohama. Their plan to obtain research equipment had been established, but it would be some months yet until Koretomo would actually have the items he needed. In the meantime, Koretomo devoted himself to his new life, contributing to the clan and caring for his infant son as best he could.

Though their futures were ever uncertain, the people of the Malaguld carried forward under the light of hope, shining as brightly as Azim himself...

* * *

"In a way," Fordola commented, "that's not unlike what the empire promised us. What your grandfather went through, I mean. He had to work to earn his place. And once he demonstrated he was capable of learning and adapting, they welcomed him."

Slinking down against the wall, Sarika took a break from her tale, taking a long drink of water.

"You're not wrong," she admitted. "But the key difference, I think, is that people joining the Malaguld were given a fair chance. With the oppression the Ala Mhigans faced, they had to struggle against overwhelming odds every step of the way."

"And it made us all the stronger for it," Fordola spat bitterly. "Every stone they had to throw, every curse they spat. We proved them wrong!"

"You're not wrong," Sarika admitted with a shrug. "You're a fierce fighter, Fordola. The soldiers under you, your friends...they were strong, too. But when you look at the grander picture...how many were broken under such an intense, unfair trial? You and yours survived, aye, and came out stronger for it. But how many else failed, cast aside like refuse? Does that mean they were utterly worthless? That they couldn't have become strong if given a chance?"

Fordola had no answer to that. She had seen them firsthand - those who couldn't keep up with the training, broken under the overseer's demanding pace. Many were left for the vultures - others weren't so lucky.

"I don't think so," Sarika continued, shaking her head. "There were other ways they could have contributed. That, I think, is proof that the empire cares little for long-term plans, or the health of their subjugated provinces. It is like Tadanari and his refusal to approve the sewer project, is it not? In the long term, he would certainly have benefited from it. If the empire truly cared for your well being, if it wanted you to adapt and be useful to it, it would have created a situation that allows you to do so. Instead, imperial boots push you into the dirt."

Fordola was quiet for a long while. Sarika took another drink of water, before getting up and stretching.

"Do you need some water?" Sarika asked.

"I'm fine," Fordola deflected. "You're the one that's been talking for hours."

"As you say," Sarika shrugged. "Well, I'll leave you be, Fordola."

Sarika turned towards the gaol exit and began to leave, her boots clicking on the stone floor.

"Wait!" Fordola ordered. "The story - that was only your grandfather's tale. Your father was born on the Steppe...so how did you end up in Gridania?"

Sarika paused, turning towards Fordola.

"A good storyteller always leaves her audience wanting more," she smirked, tipping her red mage's chapeau. "I'll return on the morrow, if you're still interested."

Nodding hesitantly, Fordola slunk back against her cell wall, chains clinking as Sarika's boots tapped against the floor once again. The heavy door swung shut with a thud that echoed through the walls, and she was alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a timeskip! For the next segment of the story, we'll be moving onto the next generation of the Steppe...


	13. Year 1543 of the Sixth Astral Era - Part 1

**Year 1543 of the Sixth Astral Era**

It was a windy day on the Steppe.

Clothes blowing in the wind, a crimson-haired young man stepped out of his family's ger, making his way towards the camp's supply center. The supplymaster greeted him as he approached, already knowing what he was there for.

"Cart is already stocked and ready to go," they nodded. "Ogele has your horse saddled up and ready, Hisame."

"My thanks for the swift work," he nodded.

"Well, it's not something we should dawdle on," the supply master shrugged, turning back to their work.

Departing, Hisame made his way over to the stables, where a tall, older man with a scraggly beard was waiting for him next to a horse with an attached cart.

"Good, good," Ogele muttered, stroking the horse's head. "The earlier, the better."

"No time to break my fast, eh?" Hisame grinned.

"There's some hot food in the red cloth," Ogele nodded, stepping back and watching as the younger man got into the saddle. "Should tide you over for a while."

"My thanks, old man," Hisame nodded. "I'll return soon."

Hisame brought the horse around towards the outer edge of the village, beginning to follow a trampled-down path of grass leading east.

"Hey!" a man's voice called out. Looking to find its owner, Hisame saw a black-haired Xaela man running towards him - Taghai, his best friend for as long as he could remember.

"You're leaving already?" Taghai asked, dashing over to Hisame's side. "You're sure it's fine to go alone? I can come with you, ya know."

"Reunion is only a day and a half's ride from here," Hisame shrugged. "And I'm plenty capable of defending myself. Besides, I'm not completely alone."

Hisame gestured to the sky as a shadow darted over the grass. High above them, shadowed against the light of the rising sun, a great yol flew overhead, with a rider atop.

"The Warmaster has scouted the area from the air," Hisame explained. "If anything does happen, help won't be far. So relax."

"Yeah, I guess if Tsuji says it's safe enough, that's pretty much the end of it," Taghai yawned, scratching the back of his head. "Okay. But hey, you didn't forget, right? About the sharpening stone?"

"Oh, was this the tenth time you've reminded me?" Hisame sighed, rolling his eyes. "Or the eleventh? Yes, I remember the damn stone. I have a list of everything to buy - I'll get you your stone if there's funds enough left over."

Offering a wave with the back of his hand, Hisame gently whipped the reins and brought the horse-cart moving again.

"Well don't let those merchants get the better of you, ya hear?" Taghai laughed, waving his friend goodbye. "Seriously, I really need a new one!"

* * *

The first half-dozen hours of his journey passed uneventfully into the afternoon. The wheels on the horse-cart were in fine shape and offered only mild creaking and squeaking as Hisame traveled across the grassy plains. The closer he got towards Reunion, the wider and more beat-down the grass path became, and the easier it was to traverse.

Tsuji's shadow dipped in and out of the clouds, far above him, though he saw her flying back towards the Malaguld camp after a while. He took that as a promising sign.

Even so, he maintained his vigilance, keeping his eyes trained on the horizon. The long lines of sight on the Steppe, with the beautiful azure sky and the endless ocean of grass swaying in the wind...it had a tendency to cause one to daydream. After a few hours, his caution paid off. Taking note of some brown shapes growing closer in the distance, Hisame took out his father's old spyglass and took a closer look. A small herd of dzo were moving towards him in a straight line...fleeing from something, most likely.

"Well, that can't be good," Hisame sighed, bringing the cart to a stop.

Dismounting and walking a short distance away from his cart, Hisame unhooked the geomancer's staff resting on his back. Taking a deep breath, he quieted his mind and closed his eyes - before slamming the butt of his staff into the ground and curling his fingers upwards, willing the earth to form at his will. A small, square patch of stone rose up with him standing atop it, creating a small pillar of rock and earning a startled snort from his horse. Taking out his spyglass again, Hisame used the superior vantage point to get a better picture of the situation.

A quadrupedal, bear-like creature was plodding along behind the herd of a dozen or so dzo. The red, matted fur identified it as a gulo-gulo, a ferocious hunter that relied on brute strength and an utterly fearless disposition to take out its prey.

"Strange for one to be this far from the mountains," Hisame muttered. Gulo-gulo were solitary by nature, and their strength was of little benefit on such a flat area, where potential prey could see them coming from malms away.

Hisame observed as the flock started to curve away towards the south, the gulo-gulo losing ground behind. The creature must have been a few hundred yalms away, but stopped to sniff the air.

"Ah," Hisame sighed. "The wind is against me."

The hungry beast deciding against pursuing the herd, and turned towards Hisame. The creatures did not have particularly sharp eyesight, but had remarkable noses. Perhaps it smelled him or his horse upon the wind...

Releasing his magic's hold upon the earth, Hisame let the pillar disintegrate, gracefully landing on two feet. It wasn't an ideal situation - the beast was surely starving and desperate to so fruitlessly chase a herd of dzo. Once it spotted the far easier prey of him and his horse, it wouldn't give up. Rubbing his chin, Hisame quickly considered his options. He was confident in his ability to slay the beast, but to defend his cart at the same time would be difficult, especially once his horse panicked and tried to run off. They were resilient creatures, and even if he pelted it with sizable chunks of earth, it could probably shrug off his attacks and run down his horse, weighed down by the cart.

"No, better to face it now," Hisame concluded with a nod. Rubbing his horse's head reassuringly, he instructed it to stay before breaking into a jog, moving directly towards the incoming beast. He placed himself at an angle between his horse and the gulo-gulo, and once it took notice of him directly, it began clambering towards him, moving further away from his horse.

"Good, good," Hisame muttered, summoning forth small walls of stone on his flanks. They were weaker than they looked, but were only there to give him room to dodge and maneuver against the lumbering beast.

As the beast drew closer, it let loose a desperate snarl, slobber dripping from its oversized fangs. Rushing towards him on all fours, the beast charged, eager for a meal. Summoning the power of the earth, Hisame brought forth a trio of rocks that he kept in the air beside him. Striking out with his palm, he commanded one to launch forward, using it as both a warning shot and a way to test his range. The shot landed short and to the side of the incoming beast, so Hisame put more power into his next shot. This rock collided into the beast's side, but did not dissuade its charge. Bringing even more power into his third attack, Hisame launched it forward with palpable force, the rock whizzing through the air as it smashed into the beast's head. The gulo-gulo flinched, stumbling for a moment, but snarled again and resumed its charge.

Now close enough to reach him, Hisame jumped to the side as the creature bared its fangs. His winds wouldn't be enough to knock the creature away, so he instead focused them on himself, creating a directional gale at his feet and blowing himself into the air. He landed nimbly atop one of his stone walls and wasted no time in continuing his onslaught. He summoned a small, vicious gale that sliced and burned against the beast's flesh - a slow process, but this was sure to be a long battle, a test of his endurance against the one that wished to devour him.

Hisame launched more rocks at the creature as it charged at his wall, rising onto two legs and swiping at his feet with razor-sharp claws. Hisame leapt off, and the beast brought down its weight upon the wall, collapsing it and chasing after him. Pelting it with more launched slabs of earth as he ran towards his other wall, Hisame heard a sickening crunch as his shot impacted.

The beast was surely in great pain from his attacks, likely having broken several bones. For it to continue its attack meant that it was truly starving, desperate to consume him or die trying. Once again, Hisame used wind to propel himself on top of his other wall, using the opportunity to bombard the beast with magic. The beast grew wiser to his tricks, and this time simply charged into the wall, knocking it down. As gravity sought to bring him down, Hisame used more wind to launch himself, sailing over the beast's head.

His heart was pounding, his lungs burning and desperately crying for respite. His acrobatics were among his most aether-demanding spells and were taking their toll on his body - but he couldn't stop. The beast was getting slower, too.

"Gah!" Straining with exertion, Hisame summoned another wall for himself to use, continuing his magical assault. As the gulo-gulo turned to charge yet again, Hisame grit his teeth and prepared for the perfect moment to dodge.

A moment that never came.

Something small and fast _whizzed_ past him and the gulo-gulo suddenly stumbled forward, collapsing onto the earth and sliding forward a short distance before coming to a stop, totally motionless. Blinking, Hisame looked closer and saw a massive arrow protruding from the creature's head, crimson blood spilling forth and staining the grass. Turning around, Hisame looked towards the direction the arrow had come from.

"What?" Hisame muttered aloud, unable to believe his eyes. Hisame saw a figure in the distance, holding a large bow, leaping up in the air and pumping their arms in celebration. "That's got to be over a hundred yalms away!"

Glancing around, Hisame looked for any other shooter, but found no one else. Glancing towards the gulo-gulo to make sure it really was dead, Hisame shrugged and started to walk towards the figure, who had slung their bow over their back and started to walk towards him. As they got closer, Hisame identified the archer as a Xaela woman. Quite tall for a female Auri, she was only a head and a half shorter than him, with chocolate skin and jet black hair, sporting a big grin on her face as she approached, waving.

"Hey!" she greeted, cradling her head in her hands as she raised her arms behind her back. "Did you see that? Tell me you saw that! What a shot, right?"

"I certainly did," Hisame said, placing his hands on his lap and bowing respectfully. "My thanks for the timely assistance."

"Huh?" the woman blinked. "Why are you bowing to me?"

"When one receives assistance, t'is appropriate to show gratitude, no?" Hisame asked. "So, thank you."

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed in sudden realization. "White scales...you're Raen? Are you with the Malaguld or something?"

"That's correct," Hisame nodded. "I am known as Hisame Malaguld. May I ask the name of the woman that saved me?"

"Sechen Dazkar," she grinned, offering her hand. "Although, I think you would have prevailed even if I didn't step in. That beast was starting to bleed out."

"A Dazkar, are you?" Hisame asked, shaking her hand. "Were you hunting that one?"

"Nah, that was just a coincidence," Sechen shrugged. "I saw someone in trouble, so I helped. Simple as that."

"I see," Hisame nodded. "Well, thank you again. May I ask where you are headed? I am traveling to Reunion, myself."

"I'm going there too," she nodded. "But let's skin the beast before we head off."

_We,_ Hisame noticed - the woman had already assumed they would be traveling together. Not that he minded...Dazkar women were the greatest archers across the entirety of the Steppe, and she seemed friendly enough.

"Do you have a cart?" Hisame asked, receiving a shake of the head. "I left mine nearby to fend off the gulo-gulo. I'll bring it over to the body."

Nodding, the two briefly split up as Hisame brought his horse-cart around. Sechen pulled a large skinning knife from her belt, planting her boot on the dead creature's body, tilting her head as she examined it.

"Hmm, not very good," Sechen hummed as Hisame approached her again. "See how the fur is matted and torn...a shabby pelt, this one makes."

Moving to the front of the body, Sechen plied the creature's mouth further open with her hands.

"Many of the fangs are chipped or rotten," she commented, more like she was speaking to herself than explaining to Hisame. "Two of the main incisors are still decent. And there's traces of foam around the tongue...this one may have been diseased. Best not to take any of the meat."

"I assumed it must have been desperately starving, chasing a herd of dzo this far into the Steppe," Hisame commented.

"Hmm, yes..." Sechen started slicing away inside the beast's mouth, extracting the two usable teeth. It seemed she hadn't heard him. Hisame stood behind the crouched woman for a moment, his sense of awkwardness growing more palpable as time passed.

"Can I assist you?" he asked, loudly clearing his throat to get her attention. "I may not be an expert skinner, but I can follow instructions well enough."

"Hm?" Sechen glanced behind her, suddenly remember he was there. "Oh! Right...I'm used to doing everything alone."

Standing up, Sechen pulled out a second knife, offering him the hilt.

"You'd probably make a mess of the pelt," she shrugged. "And it would be nigh unsellable if it was damaged even more. Leave that to me, you pry out the good teeth while I work."

The two set to work harvesting the creature. Sechen was clearly a daft hand at this, slicing through the beast's thick pelt with precise cuts of her knife and revealing the mountain of muscle beneath. Hisame struggled to cut the teeth away - it was like sawing through bone - and adapted to Sechen's instructions, sawing into the roof of the mouth and extracting the tooth at the base. After working for a while, Sechen was satisfied with their work, stepping back and nodding. Hisame brought an extra waterskin from his cart, pouring some out and thoroughly cleaning his hands.

"Here, hold out your hands," he offered to Sechen, pouring out some water for her to clean her own hands.

"Thanks," she smiled. "I can't stand having blood lingering on my hands. Distracts me like nothing else."

"And you said it could have been diseased, right?" Hisame pointed out. "Cleaning your hands should reduce the risk of infection."

"You sound like a learned man," Sechen said, washing her hands. "Where are you from?"

"The Steppe," Hisame shrugged. "I was born here. My father came from the Raen valleys, however, and he made his life's work to study and fight disease. Most of what I know came from him."

"Interesting," Sechen nodded. "So then, shall we be off?"

"You wish to travel to Reunion together?" Hisame asked. "I would welcome your company."

Answering him with a nod and a smile, Sechen mounted her own horse, riding alongside Hisame as he urged his cart back into motion. The two struck up an easy conversation as they travelled, talking about this and that as the evening light slipped further past the horizon before finding a suitable spot to set up a camp for the night. They both had ample food and the summer air was still warm, so their humble campfire was purely for light and comfort.

"So, what are you seeking from Reunion?" Hisame asked, sitting down in a cross-legged position.

"Oh, this or that," Sechen sighed, pulling her legs close to her chest and hugging them. "Some arrows, a new bowstring. Maybe a new knife."

"You sound like you don't know," Hisame pointed out. "It seems like a long trek to simply browse."

"Well if you _must_ know," Sechen clarified, her lips turning upwards in a bittersweet smile, "I'm here on my own. I didn't let anyone in the tribe know where I was going, actually. I imagine the khatun is going to be rather upset with me...especially when she finds out I 'borrowed' some of our arrows."

"That sounds...serious," Hisame frowned.

"Relax," Sechen shrugged. "I'm not running away or anything. I'm gonna go back...eventually. I just...I had to get out of there for a while."

"Why is that?" Hisame asked.

Turning her head upwards to the stars, Sechen was quiet for a while.

"Everything's the same," she said quietly. "Day after day. Wake up, go hunting, come back. Every day...it's just the same. When did the thrill of the hunt fade?"

"I'm surprised I'm telling you this," she added. "You have a...trustworthy face, I think. I like you, Hisame."

"You do?" he blinked. "We've known each other for half a day."

"Xaela understand each other best when their lives are on the line," she grinned.

"You sound like a Dotharl," Hisame said.

"The Dotharl think we have to fight against each other to understand our souls," Sechen shrugged. "But that's not true. We can fight alongside each other, too. You have a good soul, Hisame. I'll stake my pride as a Dazkar woman on it."

Taken aback, Hisame could only stare at her for a moment until he chuckled to hide his embarrassment.

"You're quite impulsive, aren't you?" he smiled.

"Aye, and much to the chagrin of my tribe," she laughed. "So, tell me of your purpose. What do you hope to find in Reunion?"

"Oh, a half-dozen different things," Hisame nodded. "Clay pots, timber for construction purposes, rice from Doma. But my main purpose is to deliver our tribute."

"Ah, off to see the Qestir, are you?" Sechen nodded. "Who are you buying off? The Qerel?"

"Nay, the khagan and her tribe have imposed no such thing," Hisame said, shaking his head. "They seem like an honorable sort. I'm glad they won the Nadaam."

"They seem to have done so to prove their own strength, rather than to enforce some ambition upon the tribes," Sechen nodded.

"But to answer your question, the ever-preening Oronir," Hisame explained. "As well as the Adarkim."

"Both of whom suffered great loses in their attempt to claim victory this year," Sechen concluded. "So I imagine your usual tribute has gotten considerably smaller this year, hmm?"

"Somewhat," Hisame nodded. "The Malaguld have never hungered for victory in the Nadaam. Still, we wouldn't want to make the tribute so small as to give _too_ great an offense."

"Weakened as they are, either one of those tribes would still be a threat to most others," Sechen nodded. "By the way...that magic you used, against the gulo-gulo. Are you a geomancer?"

"Aye, as was my father," Hisame nodded. "Though he mostly learned as a healer, I confess to having some degree of talent on the battlefield."

"Ooh, a fighter and a healer, are you?" Sechen smirked. "Well well, aren't you a good man to have stumbled upon? Say, you wouldn't happen to be spoken for, would you?"

"Nay, I have no Nhaama of my own, if that's what you ask," Hisame answered. Meeting her eyes, Sechen's smile grew wider, a mischievous allure surrounding her.

"Why?" Hisame asked. "Are you interested in the position?"

"So you have courage with women as well as beasts," she laughed. "I like that. But I suppose we'll see, won't we?"

Planting her arms behind her on the ground, Sechen smiled up at the stars again.

"This might actually prove to be the little adventure I was hoping for," she said softly.

"Well, hopefully said adventure won't come in the form of any more hungry beasts," Hisame sighed, rising to his feet. "Go ahead and get some rest. I'll take the first watch."

"Handsome _and_ well-mannered," Sechen smiled teasingly. "And I think I will, thank you. Wake me when it's time to switch."

Nodding, Hisame walked a suitable distance away to make water. Sechen certainly was interesting...she was the first Dazkar woman he had ever met, and she certainly fit the _assertive_ personality he had been led to expect from one. Perhaps another reason for her journeying alone was to find a man that struck her fancy? It certainly wasn't unheard of, though being a house husband for the rest of his life while his wife did all the hunting and fighting seemed somewhat unappealing. Perhaps that had something to do with her sense of boredom, always feeling pressured and expected to fulfil a certain role?

Hisame sighed, unsure how to feel. She was certainly easy on the eyes and was clearly a tremendously skilled archer, but it seemed too soon to judge if her interest was genuine. He resolved to learn more about her in their sure to be brief time together. Who knows? Maybe she really would be the one.

* * *

**_The next day..._ **

Hisame and Sechen departed the next morning, just before the sun began to rise. After several hours riding, a trading settlement came into view, surrounded loosely by a fence of colored ropes. The border served not to keep beasts at bay, but to denote the sacred area within. The Qestir were essentially a neutral Xaela tribe. They were known as the caretakers of the Nadaam, responsible for the ceremony that signalled its beginning and end each year. Additionally, the Qestir forsook all spoken language, believing all words to be lies and only valuing actions. They had established the settlement known as Reunion in the center of the Steppe, just beyond the shadow of the great Dawn Throne. Reunion was a place open to all tribes, and conflict between them was strictly prohibited. Though other tribes were reluctant to approach at first, it soon became a major center of trade, not only among the tribes, but also of foreigners from Yanxia, the Ruby Sea, and even Hingashi.

Although Hisame suggested splitting up to attend to their various business, Sechen assured him she was fine tagging alongside him, as she had far less to do. Deciding to finish the most important business first, Hisame approached a large, yellow ger at the center of Reunion. Hisame entered and bowed respectfully to a Qestiri man seated behind a desk. The man had an impassive look on his face, his desk covered in scrolls and papers - records of many different kinds of transactions and exchanges. Although the Qestir despised words, they made an exception for the language of commerce.

"My name is Hisame Malaguld," he explained, placing down two hefty pouches of coin onto the man's desk. "Here to deliver our tribute to the Oronir and Adarkim tribes in exchange for their non-aggression."

Nodding silently, the Qestiri man opened the pouches and spilled out their contents, verifying the sums. Satisfied, he gave Hisame another nod and scribbled down some marks on his papers.

"That simple, is it?" Sechen asked quietly as Hisame turned to leave. "The Qestir are remarkably efficient."

"Using them as intermediaries for tribute is safer for everyone," Hisame explained. "They're reputable as a third party, and the funds are attributed to the clans right away. They can spend their tribute as soon as the Qestir register it. And where better to have tribute brought than a marketplace where you can find anything your heart desires?"

"I wouldn't say _anything_ ," Sechen sighed. "I had a look around the fletcher's stalls. Unimpressive craftsmanship...my grandmother could have done better."

"Don't Dazkar women make their own bows anyway?" Hisame asked.

"Well, yes," Sechen admitted. "But it's not a terrible idea to browse. Having a spare around in case of emergency could be useful."

With the main business taken care of, the two set about browsing the various stalls. There were all sorts of people offering all sorts of goods, crying out their wares to all who passed. One man was clad in a gi with a ribbon tied around his head, promoting the values of fighting with one's own fists, selling a variety of gauntlets, tonfa, and the like. A Doman man was selling sake, a type of alcohol. It was quite an inflated price but was a very popular stand nonetheless. There was a small Xaela woman clad in crimson, offering divinations from the elder gods for only a small fee.

After purchasing most of what they needed, the two took a break.

"Would you like some buuz?" Hisame offered, handing his companion a bowl containing some steaming, meat-filled dumplings.

"Buuz?" Sechen grinned. "I love buuz! I've always wanted to learn how to make it."

Sechen's appetite was voracious, scarfing down her meal like a gedan tearing into its prey. Hisame ate at a much more relaxed pace, watching her as she went to purchase a second helping.

"You have quite the appetite," he commented as Sechen sat back down.

"A good huntress knows when to hold back," Sechen laughed, "and when to go all out!"

"I'm only paying for the first helping, you know," Hisame added.

"I know," Sechen nodded. "Besides, you negotiated a good price for it. Women do almost all of the trading, where I'm from. Part of the reason I wanted to stick with you was to see how a man traded."

"And?" Hisame prompted. "How do I compare?"

"Well enough," Sechen shrugged. "You seem to have a knack for it. You're more direct than my mother was. More of a 'take it or leave it' approach."

"I do a fair amount of trading for my clan," Hisame nodded. "I know more or less what things cost here."

"You know," Sechen grinned, "if you keep showing me all these interesting sides to you, I might seriously fall for you!"

"The hell is this?" a gruff voice demanded, cutting off Hisame's thoughts.

A trio of young Xaela men in bright yellow clothing strutted up to them, with the muscular man in the center seeming to be the leader of the gang.

"Why the hells is a Raen walking around in Reunion?" the man barked. "Are you lost, little white-scale? Wander away from your palace gardens?"

"I wasn't aware I had a palace," Hisame said calmly, continuing to munch at his food.

"Eh?" the man sneered. "You saying you belong here? Azim's Steppe is no place for white-scaled weaklings. What gives you the right to walk around, stinking up the place with your cowardice?"

"Cowardice?" Hisame repeated, placing his food down. "I may be Raen, but I am as much of the Steppe as you-"

"Some of us are trying to eat here!" Sechen spat, giving the man a death-glare. "So would you kindly go spew shite from your mouth somewhere else? You're ruining my appetite."

"Eh?" the man repeated, looking at Sechen with a cocky grin. "What's a pretty thing like you doing with this trash? If you're looking for your Azim, little Dazkar, you should turn to the Oronir first!"

The man chuckled, his two goons joining his mirth and encouraging him.

"Eh?" Sechen sneered, getting to her feet and squaring off in front of the intruder. "Eh? Is that all you can say? Is your head as hollow as your horns?"

"You got something to say?" the man glared back.

"I _had_ something to say," Sechen glared. "Now I've got a talking, walking sack of shite in front of me that doesn't know when to piss off when he's told. So you can be a good little boy and do what you're told, or I can rip one of those tiny nubs you call horns off your head, and shove it up that pathetic excuse you call a manhood!"

The man took a step back, grimacing from the unexpected aggression before remembering he had a three-to-two advantage.

"Why, you-" he started.

An overwhelming presence suddenly overtook everyone present, silently _demanding_ their attention. A Qestiri woman stood behind them, her mouth covered with a mask. Though she was shorter than all five of them, she commanded an aura of great respect, her merciless glare withering the aggression of all present.

"This isn't worth it," one of the man's friends suggested. "Let's go somewhere else."

"See that you do," Sechen huffed, turning away and sitting back down.

The Qestiri woman watched the three Oronir move away, before shaking her head at Sechen and departing herself.

"Were you really willing to start a fight over that?" Hisame asked. "You could have been banned from Reunion forever."

"I can't stand those kinds of men," Sechen spat. "No, not just men. That kind of...weakness. Those...pretenders! They preach of their own strength and righteousness, and whimper when someone has the spine to stand up to them. Children, in the bodies of men!"

"That's how it is," Hisame sighed. "Raen aren't welcome in most of the Steppe. Most aren't so willing to go against the Qestir's rules, but there's always the looks. The whispered words. You get used to it."

"And you're okay with that?" Sechen demanded. "To be treated like dirt?"

"Of course not," Hisame frowned. "But what is getting into a fist fight going to accomplish? Violence would only make the situation worse. My clan believes that choosing one's battles is not cowardice, but wisdom."

Biting her lip, Sechen had nothing else to offer.

"Did you need to buy anything else?" Hisame asked, changing the topic. "I'd like to take my leave of this place while we still have some sunlight."

"No, I'm finished," she said, releasing a breath. "Come to think of it, where exactly is your tribe right now?"

"A dozen malms to the west of where you encountered me," he explained. "Why, where is yours?"

"A few dozen more, east and north of there," she explained. "It seems we'll be headed in the same direction for a while longer, at least."

"In that case, why not take a rest with the Malaguld?" Hisame offered. "You could rest comfortably there, and restock if you need to. Our fletchers may not compare to yours, but I think our arrows might be of a quality more to your liking than Reunion's."

"A kind offer," Sechen smiled. "Thank you, Hisame. I'll take you up on that."


	14. Year 1543 of the Sixth Astral Era - Part 2

The path back towards the Malaguld was quiet and mercifully free of any more ravenous beasts. Conversation flowed easily between the two, and they found that time passed quickly in each other's company.

"I suppose this is where we part ways," Hisame said as the Malaguld encampment came into view. He couldn't deny a sense of disappointment at the realization.

"It could be," Sechen hummed. "But does it need to be?"

"What do you mean?" Hisame asked.

"Why not accompany me back to the Dazkar camp?" she suggested. "After you've seen to your business here, that is. I fancy a spot of hunting ere I return, and I feel we work well together. Will you join me?"

"A hunt, eh? Have you a particular creature in mind?" Hisame asked.

"I do, actually," Sechen grinned. "I was thinking about it all last night. What could we hunt together that I wouldn't attempt alone? And seeing as you're a geomancer...I think the perfect prey would be a purbol."

Purbols were cousins of the morbol species, named after the bio-luminescent, purple orbs that writhed atop the tentacles on their heads. Like all morbols, they belched and spewed forth a ghastly toxin towards their victims, inflicting all manner of debilitation. The stench carried for malms around, so they were easy to track...but to hunt one alone was the pinnacle of recklessness.

"A purbol..." Hisame trailed off in contemplation. It was dangerous, yes, but he had ways to counteract the purbol's breath. "So long as we split the harvest, I don't mind. My father has been needing purbol lights for one of his experiments."

"And handing over some toxin sacs would soothe my khatun's temper," Sechen sighed. "Alright, it's decided then."

After that, the two trailed into the Malaguld camp, waving to the sentries as they approached. Taghai caught notice of them and ran up to them with a big grin.

"Welcome back," he said. "Oh, but I see you've found more than just supplies!"

"Sechen Dazkar," Hisame introduced. "We met by chance on the road. And here, before you pester me - your sharpening stone."

Tossing him a cloth pouch containing his requested item, Hisame dismounted and started unloading his cart.

"Thanks!" Taghai chuckled. "You know me so well. Here, I'll help you unload."

The trio worked quickly, unloading all of the Malaguld's goods. Sechen went to the edge of the camp to wait for Hisame, while he paid a brief visit to his parents to inform them of his intention.

"Mother, Father," Hisame nodded, stepping into his parent's ger. "I am returned."

"Ah!" his mother embraced him, nuzzling against his chest. "Welcome back, Hisame. The kami are good to see you safely home."

"Please, mother," Hisame protested. "I am a man grown..."

"Ah, but you'll always be her son," his father chuckled, rising to clap Hisame on the shoulder. "And there's no escaping that, no matter how strong you become. Did you find everything?"

"Aye," Hisame nodded. "The rice was more expensive than I would have liked, but I was told by many that the Domans are having difficulty with their harvest. Some sort of tension brewing there, perhaps. Ah, but forgive my haste, for I am still for the road."

"Oh?" Chambui asked, stepping back. "Where to?"

"I met a Dazkar woman by chance on the road," Hisame explained. "She assisted me in fighting off a stray gulo-gulo, and we decided to travel together. She has asked me to hunt with her on the way to her own tribe, and I have accepted."

Hisame's parents shared a look, eyebrows raised.

"Is that so?" his father asked, suspiciously amused. "Well, you had best not keep her waiting, then."

"I will return soon," Hisame nodded, embracing his parents in succession before turning to leave.

"It seems the implication of hunting with an eligible Dazkar woman is lost on him," Koretomo chuckled. "She must be quite smitten with him."

"They grow up so fast," Chambui sighed.

* * *

"Smell that?"

Sniffing at the air, Hisame looked carefully in the direction Sechen was pointing.

"Aye, much to my regret," Hisame winced. A putrid odor wafted into his nose, a smell of rotting flesh, diseased air, and sulphurous earth - the vile stench of a purbol. Even at this distance, it made his stomach churn in protest.

Dismounting, Sechen knelt down and examined the grass, fingers brushing over the bent-down blades, covered in a thin trail of grey slime.

"The trail is recent and moving northwest," she declared, nodding at the subtle signs of the creature's passing. "There's a small pond nearby...I imagine it's going there to refresh itself."

"Let's travel further north and move parallel with it," she continued, hopping back into the saddle and beginning to ride. "We'll stay upwind until it's in visual range."

The two urged their mounts forward with greater speed, rushing to cut off the purbol before it could reach the watering hole. Purbols were a blight upon the Steppe, contaminating sources of food and water for people and creatures alike. Preventing it from blighting the pond was just another reason to slay it.

After about an hour's ride, the creature finally became visible to them. A mass of slithering tendrils, the purbol lazily crawled to the northwest, oblivious to its pursuers.

"We leave the horses here," Sechen declared, dismounting and giving her horse a reassuring pat on the head. "I'll not risk them catching any stray breath. You can whistle from afar, yes?"

"Of course," Hisame nodded. Taking one last swig from his waterskin, the two started jogging directly towards the slithering beast.

"You're sure this is fine?" Hisame asked.

"All morbol species have notoriously poor sight," Sechen explained. "They mostly rely on their sense of smell to determine their surroundings, and we should be able to get quite close, as we are upwind. Now, as you are the one best able to defend against the creature's attacks, I would have you move in first and capture its attention."

"I figured as much," Hisame nodded. "I'll focus on evasion, running in broad circles while blowing away its breath. Meanwhile, you will bombard it with arrows from afar, yes?"

"You have a good grasp of this," Sechen nodded. Hisame noticed that her usual cheery, flirtatious nature was absent. On the hunt, a Dazkar woman was deathly serious.

"Normally I would use incendiary coatings to dispatch a purbol," Sechen explained. "But I have none, and we wish to harvest the corpse, besides. A purbol is a rare creature that has no particular vulnerable spot, so I will settle for a death by a thousand cuts - serrated arrowheads for maximum laceration."

Taking off her quiver, Sechen swapped it with another from her mount's flanks, swapping her standard arrows for almost comically large beast-slaying arrows.

"Those look more like ballista shot than arrows," Hisame commented as Sechen performed a final check of her equipment.

"It takes a great deal of strength to fire these," Sechen said. "As such, my range is rather limited. Can you conjure one of those tall pillars for me?"

"Ah, good thinking," Hisame nodded. "I can, yes. Creating an elevated position where none existed before...that is of tremendous value to an archer."

"Then our plan is set," Sechen nodded. "Let us be about it."

Trailing the purbol on their final approach, the beast let out a belch and a puff of gas as it turned, finally aware it was being followed. Willing the earth to his command, Hisame created a pillar of stone beneath Sechen's feet, raising her into the air. As soon as he was sure she was stable up there, Hisame took off in a sprint, circling around the purbol while keeping his distance. Sechen waited for her partner to capture the beast's attention by pelting it with stones torn from the earth, nocking an arrow and pulling back the heavy string. Her finally crafted bow flexed as she drew the tremendously heavy arrow, and she took aim like an eagle focusing upon a distant meal.

She released, and the massive projectile flew forward, whistling as it traveled before embedding itself deep in the flesh of the purbol's back. A dark, purple ichor starting to leak from the creature's wounds, though it remained focus on the prey dashing before it, unaware of the real threat. Closing its massive maw, the creature appeared to take a deep breath, before spewing forth a great cloud of miasma that drifted towards Hisame at an astonishing pace. Gritting his teeth, Hisame planted his feet and struck out his staff, summoning forth a mighty gale to blow the cloud back.

Hisame took off like a valley hare, sprinting and changing his direction frequently to make himself as difficult a target as possible. He drew his power into the earth once more and erected two barriers of stone around the purbol, creating a sort of cage for it. Lacking the raw strength of the gulo-gulo's charge, the purbol awkwardly tried to shuffle around the stone barrier until another one burst from the earth, trapping it on three sides. Sechen's arrows continued to fly down from her perch, bombarding the creature in a flurry of lethal projectiles.

Raising its vine-like tentacles, the purbol brought down its slimy appendages crashing down upon the wall, shattering the barrier. Finally aware of the true threat as arrow after arrow pierced its flesh, the purbol slithered towards the stone pillar, and began to take another great breath.

"No you don't!" Hisame cried, dashing over and intercepting the cloud of miasma with another burst of wind.

Furious, the purbol turned once again towards Hisame, lashing out with long tendrils. Hisame created a shield of earth to block the attack as he hopped back, pelting the beast with more rocks.

Bleeding from a dozen grievous wounds, the purbol shambled after Hisame, clearly in ragged condition. Though his lungs were burning, Hisame still had plenty of energy, finding it easier and easier to evade the beast's attacks. It grew slower and slower still, until finally it let out a ragged wheeze and slumped over, motionless. Sechen waited a moment before firing one last arrow into the creature's forehead, judging by the lack of reaction that it was well and truly dead.

"Phew," Hisame bent over, catching his breath. Sechen slung her bow back over her shoulder and hopped off the tall pillar, sliding down the rocky wall before pushing herself off, landing with a nimble roll.

As he was bent over, Hisame noticed something strange about the grass at his feet. There were small, black droplets clinging to the leaves, like a perverse form of dew. Remnants of the purbol's breath, perhaps?

"Makes sense," Hisame reasoned. "The breath can't be a purely gaseous attack. This ooze must be meant to cling to the victim's body, to act as a vessel to more efficiently spread the toxin..."

"Hmm?" Sechen hummed as she approached. "Find something?"

"Ah, no," Hisame shrugged. "Just remembering one of my father's lessons. Come, let us harvest what we need."

Walking over to the creature's corpse, Sechen took out a sharp knife and began to slice off the purple bulbs on the purbol's head.

"The front two poison sacs are accessible enough," she explained as Hisame assisted her. "The back two, however, are deep into the creature's maw, and not readily available without exposing risk to the toxin. Regrettably, I have not the suitable equipment."

"Actually, I have an idea," Hisame nodded. "Observe..."

Taking out his waterskin, Hisame poured water over his gloves, thoroughly coating them.

"Unless those have been treated, gloves that thin will be of little help," Sechen frowned.

"That would be true, if I weren't a geomancer," Hisame smirked.

Channeling his power into the water surrounding his gloves, they began to glow dimly, shimmering with arcane power. The third of the elements of geomancy, water cleansed and protected at the user's will. As a test, Hisame ran a gloved finger over the grass, watching as the black droplets of the purbol's breath slid right off the magical veil of water, keeping his gloves pristine.

"An impressive trick," Sechen laughed. "Let us swap roles, then."

"Ah, one moment," Hisame said. "There's this black organ behind the tongue...what is it? The heart?"

"Purbols do not have hearts," Sechen shrugged. "As for your question, that is one of the stomachs. It produces a black bile - my clan has always believed it to be related to the breath, but the substance is not toxic by itself. It is tough, rubbery, and difficult to harvest without protective equipment...so it is often regarded as useless. Most hunters do not bother harvesting it. Why?"

"Useless?" Hisame muttered. "Hmm...I think I'd like to harvest it for study. Perhaps I could learn something from it."

"As you wish," Sechen shrugged.

With that, the two set about harvesting the creature, making steady progress as the sun started to creep towards the horizon. They kept a watchful eye as scavenger birds started to gather overhead, awaiting their chance to feast. When they were done, they used most of their water to thoroughly clean themselves, making sure that no stray miasma escaped their notice. Dusting her hands together, Sechen took a deep breath, placing her hands on her hips and looking at Hisame.

"I've never hunted with anyone else before, let alone a man," she said calmly. Then, her lips curled upward into an elated smile, as if suddenly overtaken by the thrill of a successful hunt.

"Was it not glorious?" she laughed to the sky. "Is there any thrill greater than hunting something powerful, something dangerous, and proving yourself the more lethal?"

"It's satisfying, isn't it?" Hisame smiled.

"And what satisfaction it is," Sechen purred, striding seductively towards Hisame. "What joy...sharing this feeling with another."

Gliding her fingers across his chest, Sechen threw her arms over his shoulders, smiling teasingly at him.

"I have a good feeling about you," she smirked. "Kiss me. Show me I'm right."

Returning her embrace, Hisame couldn't help but smile back at her. He had heard tales from other men, from his friends and his father of how they had met their beloved. For some, it was an instant feeling as they shared glances, while others developed unexpected feelings over time. Long courtships were a luxury afforded to few on the Steppe, and like most decisions there, love came down to an instinctual feeling. Pulling her closer, Hisame pressed his lips to hers.

He had a good feeling about her, too.

* * *

"Well well," Sechen laughed from atop her horse. "I certainly wasn't expecting to return home only to declare my intent to leave for good."

Inflamed by adrenaline and passion, Sechen's kisses had grown more demanding, her hands starting to dance over Hisame's body as he struggled to convince himself to push her away. Although there was a certain appeal to rutting in the open field like beasts in heat, but to do so next to the decomposing corpse of a purbol? They would _never_ get the stench out.

"Thankfully one of us had more sense than lust," Sechen giggled from atop her horse.

"Barely," Hisame grinned. "You made a convincing argument."

Having packed away their harvested materials, the two fetched their horses and traveled a bit further.

"About that," Hisame said. "You're certain you wish to marry into my clan? That goes against the grain of the Dazkar, no?"

"I need a change," Sechen nodded, her expression serious again. "The Dazkar are good. Strong. But...it's not for me. I feel like I'm wasting my days. I don't want a husband who merely oversees the household. I want something new...I want to see new places. Hunt different beasts."

"Have you ever thought about adventuring in foreign lands?" Hisame suggested. "Perhaps that would sate your wanderlust."

"I have," Sechen admitted. "Though I've yet to make serious plans. Perhaps that will change now that I have you, hmm?"

Sharing another smile, the two made their way to the Dazkar camp the following day. The Dazkar were a clan about the same size as the Malaguld, with many different gers spread out across the flat plains. Most of the people he saw milling around and attending to various tasks were men.

"Many of the women will be out in the field," Sechen explained with a shrug, leading him to the largest, most important looking ger in the encampment. The entrance was decorated with the skulls of dangerous predators, sure signs of the khatun's prowess as a huntress.

"Khatun Ganzorig," Sechen greeted, pounding one fist into her open palm. "I am returned, and with an offering of apology for my unexplained departure."

A middle aged woman with white hair sat upon a throne covered in a tiger pelt, bearing a look of resignation upon her face. Her expression shifted as she took note of Sechen's guest, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You certainly have strange taste in gifts," Ganzorig smirked. "And who might you be?"

"I am Hisame of the Malaguld," he greeted, bowing politely. "Fair day to you."

"We met by chance upon the road to Reunion," Sechen shrugged, crossing her arms and looking away from her khatun. "Suffice to say that I plan on marrying into his clan."

"Aye, that will come as little shock," Ganzorig sighed. "The absence of your talent will be missed, but I understand your desires. You are of course, welcome to do so, Sechen...once he has paid your price."

"Of course," Hisame nodded. "If I may, do I have your blessing to speak to your clan? I feel by gaining an understanding of your wants, I might learn how best to make a worthy offering."

"As long as you don't intrude on my people's privacy or interrupt their work, you are more than welcome," Ganzorig nodded. "You may stay with us for as long as you need to prepare your offering."

"My thanks for your hospitality," Hisame said, bowing again. "Well, I would begin at once, then. I'll take my leave."

As soon as Hisame started to turn to leave, Sechen hurried out in front of him, leaving before her khatun could get another word in. Turning back to glance at the older woman, Ganzorig only offered him a sad smile, nodding as he followed her.

"You really don't get along with her, do you?" Hisame asked, hurrying to catch up with his bride-to-be.

"No," Sechen said stiffly. "The khatun...we disagree about most things. Rarely do our exchanges not end in bitter tones."

"That must be difficult," Hisame frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Sechen asked. "T'is a fault of mine own making. I'm aware that I can be...reckless. And stubborn enough to not want to admit when she's right. Still, I will be glad to leave this place. What of your clan's leader? What are they like?"

"Khan Gozan has been chosen to lead the tribe every year for the past thirty," Hisame nodded. "He is generally considered to be wise and just, which I agree with."

"Well, as long as he isn't constantly telling me what I should and shouldn't do, I imagine we'll get along great," Sechen sighed. "But enough about that. I'll take you over to where our crafters work. Did you have something in mind? It's no issue if you need to make a return trip to the Malaguld to gather some things."

"Perhaps," Hisame nodded. "I'll need to do some experimenting."

When a marriage took place between clans, it was tradition for whichever clan was about to lose a member to the other to receive a gift. As the person marrying into another clan would no longer be able to contribute to their former clan, the spouse of the receiving clan was expected to offer a 'price' for their spouse-to-be. To marry without offering a suitable price was considered a great offense, enough to sow the seeds of bitter feuds. As Sechen had no living relatives, he would offer his price to the khatun.

Hisame spent some time asking around, speaking with medicine makers, fletchers, cooks, as well as men tending to the laundry or standing sentry at the camp's exterior. There were a multitude of ways he could contribute - offering beast parts, making medicine, fletching arrow shafts, even offering himself for simple labor. Though Sechen had her disagreements with the clan, there was no denying her tremendous skill as a huntress, and her absence would surely be felt. Hisame would need to come up with a suitable price for his bride, and he had a growing suspicion that his answer might lay in the 'useless' black organ he obtained from the purbol.

According to other herbalists, people had tried to extract the bile from the black stomach before, but the contents within would quickly disperse into an aerosol once exposed to the air. The organ itself was quite flammable, but was otherwise considered useless. If his suspicion was right, the purbol's body had some method that kept the contents of the stomach from turning to gas, utilizing the black ooze as a bonding agent for the vicious toxins from the poison sacs. He just had to figure out a method of extracting the ooze as a sludge instead of a gas...but how?

At first he thought the answer might lie in pressure, but poking and prodding at the organ with a gloved hand had no effect. Gravity made little difference, holding it whichever way he could and squeezing it, but nary a drop came out. He considering making a small incision and trying to drain out the bile with a pipette, but he had no access to such tools, and anything he tried to craft by hand would be of poor quality. After much experimentation, it turned out that the answer lied in _condensation._

Making several quick incisions into the stomach, Hisame placed the gas-spewing organ into a glass jar. Using his control over the air to create a vacuum within the jar, he attached the lid, sealing it tightly. After a few minutes, the stomach had deflated, all the gas within expelled. With no air to escape to, the gas slowly condensed into a liquid form, becoming more like the sludge he had seen upon the grass. After leaving the jar untouched for a day, Hisame dared to open it, and found that once he did, the sludge remained consistent and did not evaporate.

It was plainly puzzling, and he did not understand the exact mechanisms at play. How did the purbol accomplish this feat? Were all of its organs kept in a vacuum? Was there some sort of chemical responsible for the condensation effect? Or was the stomach _meant_ to produce such a gas, and condensation only occurred once expelled from the body?

Questions for another time.

Taking a small piece of cloth and dipping it into the tar, Hisame tossed the soaked cloth into the flickering flame of a torch. The flame _whooshed_ with an unexpected intensity, burning a bright violet for a short while before falling back to normalcy.

"Purple flame?" Hisame muttered. "How curious..."

A bit more experimentation would be necessary - Sechen would have to help him - but it seemed that he had found his offering.

* * *

**_The following morning..._ **

"Khatun Ganzorig," Hisame greeted, "I am ready to present you an offering for Sechen's absence."

"Very well," she responded, rising from her throne. "I assume your offering is the contents of those two jars?"

"That, and the knowledge of their creation and use," Hisame nodded. "If you will follow me outside, I have a small demonstration for you."

Leading the khatun outside to where Sechen was waiting, Hisame explained how to properly extract the purbol bile, gently dipping some more strips of cloth into the sludge.

"The substance stores safely in clay jars," Hisame explained. "Although every effort must be taken to keep the substance away from open flames. Sechen will demonstrate why..."

Gesturing to his partner, Hisame took a step back as Sechen wrapped the cloth around an arrow, unslung her bow, and nocked it. Pointing to the distance, Hisame brought the khatun's attention to a tall, and currently unlit brazier. Hisame clicked together two emberstones, causing a small spark that ignited the cloth into a bright, purple blaze. Letting out her breath, Sechen drew, aim and fired at the brazier. The burning arrow flew straight and true, landing directly onto the brazier and spreading the purple flame - sure proof of Sechen's aim and the bile's effectiveness.

"The cloth only requires a small amount of bile, given how intensely it reacts to fire," Sechen explained with a curt nod. "And the fire burns long and slow, and is not easily extinguished by rushing wind, allowing it to travel a greater distance. It is a considerable improvement to other incendiary arrows in all regards."

"And to think such power came from that one organ," Ganzorig blinked. "And from one considered useless, no less. Truly, I am impressed."

Ganzorig asked to try it herself, firing a burning arrow to see just how far the flame could travel. Her shot sailed far into the air, at least seventy yalms before the fire was overwhelmed by the air rushing around it.

"T'is more than I would have thought possible," she nodded. "Your offering is greater than I expected. Consider it accepted, Hisame of the Malaguld."

Turning to face Sechen, the khatun gave her a long look before inhaling a deep breath, nodding to herself.

"Go well, Sechen," she smiled. "May your new life bring you joy."

"Thank you, khatun," Sechen said, inclining her head briefly. "Hunt well."

With that, the two finished their business in the Dazkar camp, Sechen gathering all the things she wished to take with her before reuniting at the stables.

"That's quite a small bag," Hisame pointed out. "You're sure you don't need to take anything more?"

"I prefer to travel lightly," Sechen shrugged. "Besides, I have few possessions that cannot be easily replaced. Anyroad...what happens next?"

"Once we arrive home?" Hisame asked. "Technically, you won't be a member of the clan right away, seeing as you'll have to pass the council's trial. But your worth should be clear once they have one look at you. But once they accept you, we'll have a gathering around the fire, with food and song and dance...and after that, we'll build a ger of our own. As for what comes beyond that, well..."

"We'll go wherever the wind wills us?" Sechen suggested with a smile.

"That sounds like a plan to me," Hisame answered, echoing her expression. Pulling her close, he kissed her tenderly, before the two pulled apart and mounted their horses.

For once, Sechen's future was unclear to her - and she wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagining the ecology of videogame environments is a fun daydreaming tool. Wondering how the different species of beast would prey upon each other, how the people there would tame or hunt them, and so forth.
> 
> A fair amount of thought was put into FFXIV's environmental storytelling - for the main areas, at least. Then you have Eureka, which is just a menagerie of random bullshit everywhere.


	15. Year 1544 of the Sixth Astral Era - Part 1

**Year 1544 of the Sixth Astral Era**

Sechen, Hisame, and Taghai were gathered around the smouldering remains of the Malaguld's fire. The morning sun was rising over the distant mountains, bathing the Steppe in a hopeful glow.

"Is everyone prepared?" asked Sechen. "Once we enter the canyon, there's no turning back."

"Aye," Taghai nodded. "My belly is full and my axe is sharp."

"I'm ready," Hisame nodded. "As are the horses."

"Then let's not waste any more time," Sechen nodded. "Mount up, and let us ride to the greatest challenge we've yet to face!"

Sechen and Hisame's first year of marriage had been an adventurous one. In some ways, the Malaguld had offered what she sought - greater freedom and acceptance of different ideas, to name a few. But a different part of the Steppe still had largely the same boring prey - she craved a greater challenge still. At first, the suggestion had been a jest - why not attempt to conquer Bardam's Mettle? But that idea remained ingrained, as suspicion and wonder turned to genuine consideration. Now, the three friends had finally decided to commit, to attempt what only one Malaguld had ever done before.

The Malaguld did not seek victories in the Nadaam. No, this was purely for themselves - the ultimate test of their martial prowess and teamwork.

A stern, older woman with black hair approached as the trio started to saddle up - the Warmaster.

"Off to the canyon, are you?" Tsuji asked.

"Aye," Hisame nodded. "It should be about a week's ride to the canyon. We'll stop by the Dazkar clan on the way to hand off our horses."

He didn't need to explain why. They would either fly back in triumph, with the Dazkar returning their steeds at a later time - or they would be dead.

"Then I wish you good fortune," Tsuji nodded. "You three are among our finest. I have every confidence you will succeed."

"Aww, thanks, Warmaster!" Taghai grinned, holding his arms behind his head. "We'll do our instructor proud."

"A word of warning, before you go," Tsuji nodded. "The Adarkim have moved nearby. All of them."

Hisame took her warning as further confirmation that she believed they would return.

"The Adarkim?" Sechen frowned. "That's unexpected. Why would they be in this part of the Steppe?"

"That is not yet known," Tsuji frowned, placing her chin between her thumb and index finger. "They once again suffered considerable losses in their failed bid to claim the Nadaam, this year. If I had to speculate, it may be that they are moving away from larger clans that might turn their attention towards them in their weakened state."

"Meaning they might attempt to prey on smaller clans to recoup their losses," Hisame sighed. "Well, once we return, we'll be able to help you scout from the air, Warmaster."

"You can count on us," Taghai grinned.

"Come back soon," Tsuji nodded, turning and walking away.

"I'm not sure I've ever seen her smile," Sechen hummed once the woman was out of earshot.

"You have to truly earn it," Taghai shrugged. "Like coming back as three true warriors of the Steppe, for example. Shall we be off?"

"Let's ride," Hisame nodded, smiling at his friend and wife.

The three riders took off to the north, towards the canyon where true warriors were proven - or broken.

* * *

"Have you yet the strength to stand?!"

The voice boomed through the earth, not a sound upon the wind, but a deep tremor they felt through their very bones, echoing into their minds. A great golem loomed before them, stone hewn from the earth in the shape of a man. The avatar of Bardam, rising from the canyon's depths, was as tall as ten men atop each other, each hand ending not in fingers, but in a great hammer.

The trio of warriors stood atop a circular platform, at about the halfway point of the canyon. Just reaching this point had been gruelling enough - something about the canyon seemed to attract all manner of frenzied beasts, from mere sheep to mighty mammoths.

The avatar smashed its hammers together, grinding them as arcane sparks flew before slamming each hammer onto the platform. The earth trembled and shook from the impact, and at the spots the hammers landed, the earth began to rise again, stone and soil giving form to two smaller golems, each about the size of an adult man.

Taghai brought his mighty axe crashing down upon one of the golems, carving open the rock and exposing a blue, glowing stone within. An arrow pierced the golem's soulstone before it had a chance to move, and the animated rock began to crumble, losing form and becoming mere earth again. Hisame attempted to wrest control over the other golem with geomancy, but the stone puppet was protected by some strange force that brushed aside his efforts. The golem dashed forward with surprising speed, stone turning to mud as the golem tackled Hisame. The two grappled briefly, but the golem was far stronger, easily seizing control and restraining Hisame.

"Strength through sacrifice!" the earth bellowed. "Surrender thy comrade's life, or suffer in his stead!"

One of Bardam's hammers disintegrated as the avatar formed a hand, swirling blue energy gathering around the palm. Pointing towards the immobilized Hisame, the avatar made its intentions clear as it charged its attack.

"Behind me!" Taghai cried, dashing in front of Hisame.

Sechen followed behind him, bracing herself against Taghai's back as the avatar unleashed a blast of arcane energy. Taghai bore the brunt of the attack, grunting in pain as the magic singed his body. Some of the energy reached Hisame, and he could do naught but shut his eyes and wince. The golem restraining him suddenly dissolved, and as soon as Hisame could move his limbs again, he reached out with the power of water, knitting his comrade's wounds.

"Fleet of foot, and quick of thought!" the avatar declared, smashing a hammer down on the edge of the platform. The entire platform tilted forward at a sharp angle, and all three of the warriors started to slide downwards towards a long, rocky slope, where a massive stone door awaited them. Far behind them, two massive boulders were released, starting to roll down towards the trio.

"No time to heal!" Sechen shouted. "Go, go!"

Half running and half sliding, the warriors rushed down the slope, the awful grinding of the approaching boulders filling them with dread.

"There won't be enough time!" Taghai shouted. "Hisame, can you block the boulders?"

Glancing behind him, Hisame quickly appraised the situation. The boulders had picked up too much speed - even if he tried to block them, they would smash right through any wall he created. There were no nooks or crevices to hide in, and the two boulders took up almost the entire width of the slope. Although...perhaps he could change that.

"Everyone to the left wall!" Hisame shouted, beckoning his companions towards him.

Reaching out with his power, Hisame summoned a wall on one half of the slope. He created the wall at an angle, gritting his teeth and focusing with herculean effort as he made the wall as durable as he could. The rolling boulder smashed into the wall, shattering it into pebbles, but at the cost of its momentum. The other boulder rolled past their right side, smashing into the great door at the bottom of the slope.

Gasping as if he had just been kicked in the stomach, Hisame ignored the pain and forced himself to summon another wall. This one was far smaller and weaker, and again with an angle pointing towards the opposite side of the wall. As the boulder began to roll again, it moved against the angled wall, rolling to the right side, following its twin down the slope and colliding into the remains of the door.

Letting out a ragged breath, Sechen bent over, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"Phew," Taghai said. "Good thinking, Hisame!"

"It was..." Hisame gasped, panting for breath. "It was the first...thing I could think of...it was either that or...raising us with pillars, I think..."

"Yours is the Steppe, and everything in it!" the earth declared with booming pride, as Bardam's avatar began to crumble. "Go forth and face your final trial!"

"Catch your breath and heal," Sechen nodded. "Our yols await."

* * *

Before them, the path diverged into three tunnels. Each warrior had to face their final test alone - each yol would test the strength of the one who sought to tame it. Hisame proceeded down the dimly lit tunnel, coming to a circular chamber open to the sky. The instant his foot touched the chamber floor, crunching on the bones of the yol's past meals, a furious screech rang echoed along the rock. A shadow flew in from above - a massive bird with purple and black plumage, eyes glowing blood red. The yol attacked him immediately, slashing with razor sharp talons and snapping at him with a beak strong enough to crush rock.

Their dance was brutal and elegant. The yol seemed to control the very wind itself, whipping up whirlwinds and flinging its own plumaga as projectiles, sharp feathers raining down from the sky and ripping into Hisame's flesh. The yol was relentless, like a raging storm, refusing to let up for even a moment. Hisame knew he could not attempt to do everything at once and had to dive out of the way of the yol's attacks, erecting barriers to defend himself to create brief opportunities to heal. He launched stones into the yol's side with force, wrestling for control over the air and slicing the bird with razor winds of his own.

The fight was deliberately unfair. The yol would surely kill him if he failed, but he knew he would struggle to slay the beast. Hisame fought defensively, seeking a drawn out battle to wear down the beast's endurance.

It was a battle of resolve - one he was determined to win. The reasons he fought - what he sought to prove, who he needed to protect - filled him with strength. His limbs felt like lead, growing sluggish and reluctant to fulfill his commands. His heart was beating so hard he feared it might burst from his chest, and he was covered in bruises and cuts. But the yol was equally wounded, and at last, Hisame saw a chance to strike a decisive blow.

Planting his feet and raising his staff into the air, Hisame reached out with all of his strength, ripping a huge chunk of rock from the cave ceiling and crashing it down upon the yol's back. The great bird let out a screech of pain as the rock shattered upon it, stumbling and slumping over. The yol struggled to rise to its feet, but found itself unable. Its eyes fell upon Hisame as he fell to one knee, gasping and groaning from his exertions.

"Resilient bastard, aren't you?" Hisame chuckled, hissing in pain and immediately regretting laughing. "Perhaps we have that in common..."

Shakily rising to his feet, Hisame stumbled towards the yol, which still eyed him warily, yet did not snap at him as he approached. Slumping against the creature's side, Hisame pressed his hand against one of the yol's wounds and channeled the power of water, stitching together the bleeding opening. The yol let out a curious chirp, tilting its head towards him.

"No hard feelings?" Hisame asked with a smile.

Shutting his eyes, Hisame fumbled for the waterskin at his side, pouring the cool water onto his face and dry tongue. The yol relaxed its posture, bringing its head down towards the ground. It seemed that it too, was content to rest and recover.

"Let's call it a draw, then," Hisame laughed tiredly.

* * *

Sechen and Taghai both had similar duels against their yols. After a day's rest, the the trio flew home together, casting swift shadows far beneath them.

"Ours is the Steppe!" Sechen hollered, raising her fist into the air as her yol dipped above the clouds. The wind drowned out her voice, but her companions knew her meaning.

Glory or death - that was what Bardam's Mettle offered, and they had triumphed.

From high above, the endless blue sky stretched out in every direction. From here, the Steppe's vast beauty was obvious like never before, as clear as the exhilaration on each warrior's face. Each great beat of the yol's wings took them far, and the trio traveled swiftly through the air, making it back to the Malaguld camp in less than a day. The camp took notice of them as their mounts descended, first giving cries of alarm, before realizing the truth. Prideful, joyous shouts rang through the air, dozens of people dropping what they were doing to crowd around the victorious warriors. Only Tsuji had conquered Bardam's Mettle before them, and such a triumph deserved a fitting celebration.

That night, the Malaguld lit a great bonfire and hundreds crowded around the trio to celebrate and feast. Great roasts of meat were prepared, steaming dumplings and hearty stews for all to savor. The warriors were all surrounded by the friends and family, arms linked together and voices raised in high spirits. Khan Gozan brought out the casks, offering the heroes the first taste.

"For if this isn't an opportunity worthy of a good drink, what else is?" he laughed.

As the night went on, Hisame finally pulled his wife away from the crowd, offering her a toast.

"To our victory," he grinned.

"And to all those yet to come," Sechen smiled.

Downing their drinks, the two looked at each other for a moment. The creeping realization of their exhaustion set in as they saw the dark circles under each others eyes.

"We should sleep soon," Hisame groaned, stretching out his sore arms. "I feel like I've been awake for a week."

"It hurts," Sechen winced in agreement. "But it's a satisfying hurt. Let us savor it a bit longer."

"By the way," Hisame started. "Do you remember that a caravan from the Kha clan is arriving in a few days?"

"Yes, what of it?" Sechen asked.

"Well, the Kha are well known for interacting with those outside the Steppe," Hisame nodded. "I thought we could ask them...about good places to go. I've been thinking that we should seriously consider going off and adventuring somewhere. Do you still feel the same?"

"I do," Sechen nodded with a smile. "Today, we conquered the greatest challenge the Steppe has to offer. To seek new ones from lands abroad...that sounds very appealing."

"Then let's be sure to talk with them before they leave," Hisame nodded. "Back to the festivities, then?"

"For a bit longer," Sechen grinned. "I want another slice of roast dzo!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bardam's Mettle was quite unique with the only (that I've encountered thus far) non-combat boss in the game! I imagine that Bardam's avatar shapes the arena itself, and creates different challenges for different people. A test for a lone warrior would be quite different from that of a group! It was also a fun way to include game mechanics like soaking the damage from a stack marker to protect one's teammate.


	16. Year 1544 of the Sixth Astral Era - Part 2

Later that night, as the fire dwindled down and the stars twinkled in the onyx tapestry above, the warriors finally retired to their beds. Sechen fell asleep the instant her head touched the pillow, the exhaustion weighing down on her body like a sack of rocks. She dreamt of tall trees and taller buildings, a crowd of people before her and her husband, cheering as they bore witness to their great accomplishments. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rung, heralding their arrival.

And another bell rung, and the crowd started to turn and murmur in distress. The bells...why were the bells still ringing?

"Mmh?" Sechen mumbled, wearily opening her eyes. "What time is it?"

After processing for a moment, she realized the bells weren't contained in her dream. There was a commotion outside, and she strained to listen.

"-arms!" A voice cried. "Enemies approaching on horseback! To arms!"

Eyes flashing open in sudden realization, Sechen reached over to her side, shaking her husband awake.

"Up, up!" she demanded. "We're under attack, get your staff!"

Hastily fetching her bow and quiver as her husband groaned awake, Sechen dashed outside in only her smallclothes, eyes darting around to get a grasp of the situation.

Other people were blearily looking out from the flaps of their gers, just as confused as she was. Others were dashing about, weapons drawn.

"Sechen!" a familiar voice cried. Sechen glanced to her side to see Taghai running towards her, equipped in full armor.

"What's going on?" Sechen demanded. "Are we being raided?"

"Aye, from the south," Taghai nodded, beckoning towards Hisame, who had just stepped out from the ger. "No time to explain. Grab your weapon and hurry, they'll be upon us in moments!"

The trio rushed over to the southern edge of the camp, where the fight had just broken out. Sechen saw mounted riders charging towards them from the south, and instinctively drew her bow. Some of the riders started to circle around them at a distance, opening fire with arrows of their own. At the same time, other warriors clashed at the hastily assembled defenders with lance and axe - the torchlight of the camp revealing the color and symbols of the attacker's clothes to be that of the massive Adarkim clan.

"Why the hells are they attacking us now?" Taghai complained, slinging his axe onto his shoulder and charging into the frontlines.

Reaching forward with the power of the earth, Hisame summoned a tall wall of stone for the Malaguld to shelter behind, the first rain of arrows embedding themselves uselessly into the rock, as others sailed past, puncturing holes in some gers. Whirling out from the wall's cover, Sechen took aim, leading a shot at one of the circling horse archers, and fired. The shot whistled through the air, landing squarely in the rider's side, causing them to slump over and fall from the horse, which continued circling without them.

The raid was chaotic and violent. The Malaguld's defense was disorganized, causing the battle to be a series of many small skirmishes until more Malaguld rallied to the south, forming a more solid defensive line. Arrows flew back and forth on both sides, and the attacking archers started dropping from their mounts in greater numbers. A panicked scream from behind drew Sechen's attention, and she saw a burly Adarkim grappling with a young woman, dragging her out of her ger while two other raiders fled back towards their horses, sacks of loot hoisted over their shoulders.

Drawing one of her massive, beast-slaying arrows, Sechen saw her opportunity and took aim. The shot screamed forward, piercing through one of the looter's legs and continuing forward, embedding itself in the shin of the would-be kidnapper. Both men collapsed to the ground, howling in agony until other defenders rushed them, finishing them off. The surviving looter made it to his horse and pulled out a horn, blowing into it and producing a deep sound that carried far across the camp. At the signal, the attackers began to fall back, retreating to their own horses.

A sharp, searing pain suddenly embedded itself into Sechen's shoulder, and she cried out in pain as she slumped behind her husband's stone wall.

"Sechen!" Hisame panicked, running over to her side and kneeling next to her.

Placing an arrow between her teeth so that she wouldn't bite her tongue, Sechen gripped the arrow in her arm and yanked it out, howling in pain as it came free with a spurt of blood. Hisame immediately placed his hands over her wound, pouring his magic into her and sealing the injury. Rising to her feet, Sechen stumbled, bracing herself against the wall as she shook her head to gather her focus. Spitting out the arrow in her mouth, she nocked the very arrow that had hit her, taking aim at a retreating raider and firing.

"You forgot this!" she spat as the arrow whistled. Despite the aching pain, her aim remained true, and the arrow hit with a raider's back, causing them to stumble, but they kept fleeing.

A light appeared from one of the riders in the dark - red, burning light, that screamed towards the Malaguld encampment and burst into a shower of flame. The fleeing mage launched several more fireballs as he rode away until the distance grew too great to continue. Some of the defenders moved to mount up and pursue the attackers, calling for revenge.

"Hold!" a commanding voice demanded. All present turned to witness Tsuji, her bloodied katana raised into the air. "Do not pursue the attackers! You lot, hold this line of defense in case they return!"

"And you!" Tsuji ordered, pointing her swords towards in Hisame and Sechen's direction. "The rest of you, put out those damn fires! Go!"

Ignoring the pain in her arm, Sechen tugged on her husband's arm.

"I'll go fetch buckets," she nodded. "You use your wind."

However, Hisame did not move, his gaze fixated in horror upon a specific direction. Frowning, she turned to see what he was looking at - a familiar looking ger, rapidly going up in flames. She recognized it as belonging to Koretomo and Chambui.

Her husband's parents' ger.

"Hey!" she shouted, slapping her husband's cheek. "Don't just stand there! Go!"

"R-right!" he nodded, coming to his senses and taking off in a sprint.

Sechen rushed over to the camp's supply area, tearing the place apart in a search for buckets that she quickly filled with water, carrying two in each hand as she hurried over to the burning gers. The entire camp was awake at this point, contributing to the firefighting effort. Hisame and the other geomancers conjured powerful winds to smother the flames, extinguishing the blaze before too much damage could be caused. Still, several gers were blackened and burnt to a crisp - although the inhabitants were thankfully not inside.

The roar of commotion grew quieter as the Malaguld's soldiers took command of the situation, organizing their defense. Tsuji hurried to and fro, barking orders and pointing her katana around.

"Hisame!" Sechen cried, rushing over to her husband's side. "Your parents! Are they unharmed?"

"They're fine," Hisame said through clenched teeth. His fingers tightened into a ball, glowing white-hot from the pressure of his building fury. "But the Adarkim won't be. By the gods, they will pay for this!"

"Tsuji is organizing our defense," Sechen nodded. "Let's go regroup."

"No," Hisame said, shaking his head. "I have an idea, one they'll never see coming. But we have to act fast, while we still have the cover of night."

"An idea?" Sechen frowned.

"Call your yol," Hisame said. His eyes were sharp, devoid of their usual kindness.

"Hey, there you are!" another voice called. Taghai rushed over, worry plain upon his face. "I've been looking for you two! What's going on?"

"We're going to counterattack," Hisame declared. "Fight fire with fire."

"Counterattack? Taghai questioned. "Are you sure? I don't know if we should-"

"Gods damn it all, they tried to burn us alive, Taghai!" Hisame shouted, arms shooting into the air. "They tried to slaughter us, to steal us from our homes! The Adarkim know naught but force, and they'll only try again if we don't show them just how much it will cost them!"

"But-" Taghai protested.

"We don't have time to argue," Sechen declared. "I will go along with this. Call your yol and join us, or stay."

Biting his lip, Taghai thought for a moment.

"I guess you're right," he sighed, relenting. "Fine. Let's go."

(LINE BREAK)

"Stay above the clouds until you're in range!" Hisame shouted, slowing his yol and flying close to his companions so his voice could be heard. "Pick something big and important looking, drop it, and immediately turn back!"

His companions nodded, spreading their flight formation back out and making their final preparations. The light of the crescent moon reflected dimly on the layer of clouds, and Hisame shivered in the cold air as he passed through the clouds, confirming his distance to the approaching target. The Adarkim camp was absolutely massive, sprawling out for malms in multiple directions. Multiple bonfires were lit across the camp, giving them a reasonable understanding of its layout. As Taghai and Sechen peeled off towards the north and south, Hisame maintained a course for the center of the Adarkim camp, settling on a large, round ger that seemed more important than its neighbors. Hopefully it was an armory or a supply depot, anything that the Adarkim would sorely miss.

Fishing out two emberstones from his pocket, Hisame struck them together, creating a spark that caught a small line of rope stuck in a clay jar - a simple fuse. Lobbing the jar of purbol bile from the side of his yol, Hisame repeated the process once more for his remaining jar, dropping it above the Adarkim camp. As soon as the jar left his hand, he urged his yol upwards, disappearing above the cloud layer and turning around, flying home. Sechen and Taghai appeared from beneath the clouds soon after, forming up behind him.

Far below them, the improvised firebombs exploded in a wicked purple hue, igniting and consuming the Adarkim structures in a blaze. Shouts of panic and the clanging of bells filled the air as the inhabitants scrambled to put out the spreading fires.

"Serves them right," Hisame muttered bitterly. If the raiders were willing to use fire attacks in unprovoked aggression, it was only fair that they be incinerated in return.

Upon their return to the Malaguld camp, the trio rejoined the ranks of the defenders, awaiting any further attacks. None came, however, and the group's exhaustion grew even more severe, deprived of sleep by adrenaline and hate. Eventually, as the night grew thin and the morning sun threatened to rise soon, the trio were dismissed, finally allowed to shut their eyes. Sleep did not come easily, and they could only hope that the fires tonight would not spiral into the inferno of an all-out war.

(LINE BREAK)

**_The following morning..._ **

"How are you feeling?" Hisame asked, handing his wife a waterskin.

"Sore," Sechen groaned, adjusting her posture as she sat down cross-legged upon the grass. "And my head aches something fierce. But I am alive yet, so that will have to do."

The morning sun had risen, but the warriors of the Malaguld tribe were only filled with unease and anxiety. Tsuji had been maintaining a watch from the back of her yol the entire night, ready to sound the alarm should any response come from the Adarkim. She had finally retired as the morning sun began to rise, handing over the responsibility to the three new warriors of the Steppe, who were taking turns on patrol.

Now that the battle frenzy had passed, Hisame began to ponder his actions. Did he really make the best decision? He should have at least conferred with Tsuji...

But thinking back on the image of his parent's ger, covered in flames made his stomach twist into a knot. He couldn't think about that, not now.

A shadow soared over the grass next to him. A yol descended at a sharp angle, wings unfurling wide as it made a swift landing.

"Yol riders approaching from the east!" Taghai shouted, dismounting and rushing over to the center of camp.

"From the air?" Sechen frowned. "Are they Adarkim?"

"Nay," Taghai said, shaking his head and pointing to the eastern sky. "They come from the Dawn Throne. Look!"

Squinting, Sechen focused and could indeed see some half-dozen fliers approaching them. The clan swiftly assembled, ready to react once they learned the intent of their imminent guests. The six fliers descended in unison, landing and dismounting with practiced ease. As they approached, it became clear that they were indeed from the Dawn Throne, the seat of power reserved for the clan that took victory in the Nadaam. These veteran warriors were members of the Qerel, a tribe that lived for the glorious pursuit of ever-greater martial strength. It was said that, when youths of their clan came of age, they had to slay a steppe tiger with their bare hands, making armor from its pelt and bones in order to be accepted as adults. Indeed, each warrior bore a cloak of tigerskin, carrying large and fearsome weapons - still sheathed. There were two members, however, who did not wear tiger armor, but the clothes of the Adarkim. Fury and resentment was plain upon their faces as they glared towards the Malaguld, but they made no move of aggression.

One woman at the front of the pack, shorter than the others, suddenly stopped, unsheathing a massive sword that was nearly as long as she was. Planting the sword in the ground with enough force to crack the earth, she took a deep breath.

"By the will of the khagan!" she bellowed, her voice cracking like thunder. "The leader of the Malaguld, as well as those responsible for the fire attack upon the Adarkim, will step forward!"

A hush fell across the camp. Of course it would come to this - both clans were near the center of the Steppe. It was the duty of the khagan to guard the prosperity of the Xaela. Sometimes that meant leading fights, and other times it meant stopping them. The khagan's glare was overwhelming, authority swirling around her like the wind itself. There was no denying her.

Hisame was the first to step forward, his face stony, his feelings imperceptible. Sechen went after him, followed by a terrified-looking Taghai. Finally, Khan Gozan appeared from somewhere deeper within the camp, a frown upon his face. All four stood in silence before the khagan and her ensemble, awaiting her judgment. Closing her eyes, she was silent for a moment, before nodding to herself and looking each person in the eyes.

"Which of you is the leader of this clan?" she asked.

"That would be me," Khan Gozan nodded, gesturing to himself.

"Tell me what happened last night," the khagan demanded. "I would hear your interpretation of events."

Nodding, Gozan explained how they had been attacked by what seemed like two-dozen mounted raiders late into the night, after the celebration for their returning warriors. He told them how the Adarkim attempted to loot and kidnap, the casualties they had sustained, as well as the fireballs from the fleeing mage.

"And after that?" the khagan prompted. "Am I to understand that you did not order a fire attack in retaliation?"

"That is the truth," Gozan nodded, turning to the three warriors. "You three did this on your own initiative?"

"We did," Hisame nodded. "It was my suggestion. The others followed me."

The khagan closed her eyes again and contemplated his words. Eventually, she turned to a subordinate.

"Show them," she nodded.

One of the Qerel warriors turned back to fetch a large bundle of cloth attached to his yol. As he did, the khagan looked back to Hisame.

"Are you aware of the consequences of your attack?" she asked. "What did you target?"

"I'm not sure exactly what we hit," he admitted. "I told everyone to aim for the largest, most important looking structures. An armory or supply tent, I thought."

"A supply tent?!" one of the Adarkim men with the khagan's group stepped forward, venom dripping from his every word. "You lying, vile-"

"Silence," the khagan said calmly, holding up a fist. "Another word out of turn and I'll rip your tongue out myself."

The Adarkim man clenched his fists, trembling with rage, but relented, taking a step back. The silent hatred pouring forth from him was palpable, bringing forward a dark thought Hisame had been trying desperately to ignore.

Just how much damage had his firebombs done?

The Qerel man returned from his yol, clutching a long bundle of white cloth. The cloth had strange ridges and bumps inside of it, outlining some strange, jagged object. The Qerel man knelt down and placed the cloth upon the grass, unfolding it and revealing the contents.

"What...?" Hisame's breath died in his throat.

Sechen fell to her knees, a terrible sound between a gasp and a sob escaping from her lips. She clutched her head, tearing at her hair in disbelief. Taghai crumpled over and began to retch, spewing his breakfast onto the ground.

"No, that's not..." Hisame muttered in disbelief, his face slowly contorting into a realization of utter horror. "I didn't...that shouldn't..."

Inside the cloth were two objects - shriveled, burnt, blackened and motionless, the stink of fire and death clinging tightly to them.

The bodies of children, burnt alive by Hisame's bombs.

"The results of your actions," the khagan gestured. "As I understand it, six containers were dropped, yes? It seems that three failed to detonate, or detonated in midair. The others, however, caused severely damaging fires. The large, important looking tent, as you called it, was not a supply depot. It was the ger of the Adarkim's khan, as well as his family. In total, six perished to the flames - including the khan, his wife, and their two daughters."

"No," Hisame whimpered, shaking his head and falling to his knees. "No, no, no, no, no, this can't be real, this isn't real!"

But of course it was real. Lives were the currency with which war was waged, and this was the obvious result of his actions.

"They truly did this...?" Khan Gozan muttered, shaking his head at the burnt bodies.

"They did," the khagan nodded. "Adarkim fliers arrived at the Dawn Throne late last night to inform us. I have heard their story, and now I have heard yours. And now, I would render my judgment."

"It seems plain to me that both acts were not authorized by the greater group," she continued. "Neither the raid nor the fire attack was sanctioned by either clan's leadership. As such, I see no reason to punish the entire clan, but rather the individuals. Khan Gozan, what your warriors have done is plainly an atrocity."

Gozan bit his lip, looking to the ground.

"But it was an atrocity committed in response to an undeclared act of war," the khagan nodded. "That does not excuse their actions, but it does explain them. The Adarkim raiders invited retaliation for their actions. My judgment is this - the Adarkim, having lost their khan, several homes, and even children to the flames, have suffered enough. I believe this should be ample to remind the raiders of the price of their unwarranted aggression. Desperate to regain their strength or no, a loss in the Nadaam does not justify such violence towards other clans."

"As for the three Malaguld responsible for the fire attack," she continued, "in three days time, all members of all clans are to slay them on sight, should they remain on the soil of the Steppe. Repent with your deaths, or leave forever."

* * *

**_Later that day..._ **

Eyes wet with emotion, Chambui held her son tightly, arms wrapped around his chest. Koretomo stood next to her, a storm of emotions raging within him.

His son was a murderer.

His son was also a proud, noble warrior of the Steppe.

His son was a kind, gentle soul, who shared his passion for learning, who loved his wife, his friends, and his family. And yet, he had committed such a terrible act, consumed by anger and vengeance...and Koretomo couldn't say he was entirely wrong for doing so.

"Like father, like son, eh?" he said, forcing himself to chuckle. It sounded as hollow as it felt. "It seems exile runs in the family."

"I'm sorry," Hisame choked, tears streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry...it was such a mistake...I'd take it all back if I could!"

"Hisame," Chambui sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve as she pulled away from him. "My precious son...listen to me. What you have done...I cannot fault the khagan's judgment. But please...wherever you go, do not let this consume you. Better the lives of everyone around you...bring as much hope and joy to the world as you can. Make up the difference for what you have taken from it, as much as you can. Even if it is an impossible sum, you must never stop trying!"

"I won't claim to completely understand your reasons," Koretomo added. "Nor what you're feeling right now. But I too once made a terrible mistake, and was forced from my home. I can, at least, understand that feeling of despair, that all is lost. Fight it. If you are to ever atone, then you must not give in to that feeling."

Hisame could only nod, shutting his eyes and drowning his sorrow in his mother's shoulder.

Taghai had a similarly tearful departure with his family, as well. Sechen remainded by her husband's side, growing deeply quiet after embracing her husband's parents. All three made their way to the stables, where their yols were waiting, saddled with supplies for the journey. Gozan, Tsuji, and all the other leaders of the Malaguld were there, waiting to see them off. Their expressions belied deeply conflicted emotions - they understood why the three had done what they did and did not want to see them go, but could not fault the khagan's judgment. Some of the Malaguld agreed with their decision, if not the results, while others were furious and disgusted that the fire attack had taken place at all. It no longer mattered - the khagan's judgment was absolute, and they would heed the law of the Steppe.

Bidding them farewell with a silent, solemn nod, Tsuji slunk away, vanishing into the crowd. Hisame's parents stifled their tears, forcing themselves to smile and wave to the family they knew they would never see again. With looks of confusion, disgust, and sadness, the clan bid them farewell. And so, the three warriors, heroes one day and villains the next, departed into their exile. Flying south along the One River, they moved towards Doma as they tried to suffer through the ache in their hearts. There, they planned to gather information and formulate a proper plan...

* * *

"Wait a moment," Fordola interjected. "How do you know this? Did your parents truly tell you of the reason for their exile?"

"A fair observation," Sarika nodded. "No, they did not. I always knew that something ill had happened to them, that they could not return to the land of their birth, though they never shared the full truth. As for how I know that truth...well, that would be jumping ahead in the story, wouldn't it?"

Adjusting her posture, Fordola considered the possibilities. Surely it had to have been an Echo vision, right? There were plenty of things she had done that she wouldn't want to share with anyone, not even her own theoretical children. Or perhaps it was that she would endeavor to hide that truth especially from them...

"Pray continue then," Fordola nodded.

"Right," Sarika resumed. "Well, a few days had passed since their exile, and the three warriors had arrived at the Doman Enclave..."


	17. Year 1544 of the Sixth Astral Era - Part 3

Sechen walked up to a table in a bustling market square, where her husband was waiting with a number of drinks on the table. A thousand varieties of colorful stalls and stands cried their wares around them, from hot dumplings to paper lanterns to beautiful flowers. Although the air was clear of the usual morning fog, there was a noticeable unease among the Domans. The merchants crying their wares seemed almost desperate, the crowd hurrying to and fro as quickly as possible, hesitant to make any unnecessary purchases.

"There's an ill wind in the air," Sechen commented as she joined her husband at the table.

"Aye," Hisame sighed. "From what I gathered, there seems to be a commotion at Doma's western border with the Garleans. I think it would be best if we did not linger here."

"On that, we are agreed," Sechen nodded. "Did you find anyone?"

"I did," Hisame nodded. "A man from distant Eorzea, an Elezen merchant captain. I offered him a drink if he would share his thoughts with us."

"Elezen?" Sechen frowned. "Aren't those the tall ones with pointy ears?"

"First time meeting one, eh?" a jolly voice asked from behind.

The couple turned to see an Elezen man in a navy-blue coat with a feathered tricorne hat, smiling at them.

"Captain Areaux, at your service," he introduced with an exaggerated bow. "I believe you had questions for me?"

"We did," Hisame nodded. "Please, take a seat. I've purchased some local sake that I hope will be to your liking."

"Ah, splendid!" the captain grinned, taking a seat at the table. "I admit, I have a great fondness for Doman spirits. The flavor is quite unlike anything we have back in Eorzea."

"What sort of land is Eorzea?" Sechen asked. "We were thinking of emigrating there and thought to ask a local's opinion."

"What sort of land is Eorzea," the captain repeated. "Quite a question indeed. Well, Eorzea is a large, diverse realm. There are all sorts of climates there, from the arid plains of Thanalan to the cold tundra of Coerthas. Myself, I hail from a heavily forested region in the center of Eorzea known as Gridania. And just as there are different regions, the people and nations that inhabit them are wildly varied. Ul'Dah is a state where coin rules all. Coerthas is a seclusive theocracy in an eternal war with their hated, draconic neighbors. My merchant ship is bound for the rocky shores of Limsa Lominsa, where the thalassocracy is attempting to make a more reputable livelihood than the piracy and plundering it rose to power with. I could speak for hours about each, but neither of us have that kind of time."

"What about Gridania?" Sechen asked. "Your home, yes?"

"Ah, Gridania," the captain smiled after a long drink from his cup. "My home, yes. I could sing of its praises and tell you how undeniably wonderful it is - which it is, by the by. But even Gridania is not without its faults. You see, to live in Gridania is to accept an ancient accord with the caretakers of the Twelveswood - the elementals."

"Elementals?" Hisame asked, cocking his head.

"Aye, t'is an idea not unlike that of your kami," the captain nodded. "Invisible, intangible, but undeniably present and powerful. For centuries, mortals were forbidden from entering the Twelveswood. T'was only after long, arduous efforts of communion and diplomacy that we were granted leave to reside within the woods, so long as we honored the pact that was forged. To maintain balance of nature, to hunt and harvest only what is needed, to strive together to combat individual greed - that is the solemn charge of every Gridanian. To violate this pact is to invoke the greenwrath - a swift and unforgiving punishment. Unfortunately, these rules give us something of an insulation against other people, and Gridanians can tend to be distrustful of outsiders. We are not as woefully hostile as Coerthas, I assure you, but that there are tensions, I cannot deny."

"A land that strives to be in harmony with nature," Hisame thought aloud. "That sounds like the tribes of the Steppe."

"Yes, there are many similarities," the captain nodded. "Hunting is a crucial part of life, as the breeding and harvesting of livestock is strictly forbidden."

"Forbidden?" Sechen frowned. "How do your people survive without a flock?"

"The Twelveswood is a land of great bounty," the captain nodded. "Food is readily available to those willing to hunt and forage for it. Animal husbandry and large-scale farming are not technically forbidden by our pact with the elementals. We have made that rule for ourselves, to prevent the indulging in mortal greed and upsetting the natural balance. By the way, madame, judging from that bow and quiver of rather ferocious-looking arrows, you are something of a huntress, am I wrong?"

"You are correct," she nodded. "I hail from the Dazkar tribe, whose women are famed for their hunting and archery."

"Perhaps you could fit in quite well to Gridania then," the captain suggested. "Gridania's guild of archers is known across Eorzea, and hunting in the Twelveswood is typically done with arrow or spear."

"A guild of archers?" Sechen's tail perked up as she listened intently. "That could be a place worthy of investigation. Mayhap I could teach them a thing or two."

"If the Dazkar are as talented as I have heard, I imagine so," he chuckled. "Ah, but one other thing. As people of the Steppe, I imagine you are quite accustomed to long, open vistas, with the sky always in view. Yes?"

Hisame and Sechen nodded, unsure of his meaning.

"Well, the canopy of the Twelveswood is quite dense," the captain explained. "To those so accustomed to the vast expanse of the Steppe, it may well feel suffocating to navigate woods and elevated terrain. Perhaps people like you might prefer to live near the edge of the forest...South Shroud, perhaps. Though, wherever you chose to reside, I am certain that people with your martial talents would be able to make a living for themselves. Adventuring is quite the popular profession within Eorzea."

"My thanks, captain," Hisame nodded. "Your information has been quite helpful."

"Always a pleasure to share tales of my native land," the man smiled. "Though I would happily hear of yours, I fear time runs short ere I must return to my vessel, as we are soon to depart. I do still have some space, should you wish to purchase passage to Limsa."

"Would you also have space for three yols?" Sechen frowned.

"Yols?" the captain blinked in confusion. "Ah, I think I've heard of those. Some great cloudkin, no? About the size of an adult griffin?"

"I'm not sure what a griffin is," Sechen explained. "But a yol is about the size of two horses."

"Two horses, eh," the captained whistled. "I might have the space for _one_ such creature. And this great cloudkin is carnivorous, yes? I don't suppose you have the food to sustain it for a month-long voyage?"

"We...do not," Hisame admitted. "Ours hunt for their prey. I...I did not consider the situation of a long ocean journey. I can also imagine your crew would feel some unease around such great foreign beasts."

"There is that as well," the captain nodded. "Regrettably, I doubt you will be able to find accommodation for three yols upon a whim, and certainly not without a great cost. You are not the only ones who wish to leave Doma...from the rumors I've heard, it seems the Empire may have its sight upon this land."

"I see," Hisame nodded. "Well, thank you again for your time and wisdom. Our friend is currently asking other captains about purchasing passage, but we will keep your offer in mind."

"Good, good," the man nodded, standing up and pushing in his chair. "I'll be at the docks for a few more hours if you decide to accept. Either way, I wish you two the best of luck."

The couple watched the captain walk away before sharing a look.

"What do you think?" Hisame asked. "I do not like the idea of abandoning our yols, but it seems to be the reality of the situation."

"The Steppe will not accept us," Sechen frowned. "The Raen valleys will not accept me. Nor will the islands of Hingashi, isolated from all outsiders, and this land of Doma seems to be under imminent danger."

"There's the Ruby Sea," Hisame offered. "Have we considered there?"

"We will not regain whatever scraps of honor we might have left by consorting with pirates," Sechen huffed. "I think traveling to a distant land is our only real option. If the captain's words were true, putting our strength to use as 'adventurers' seems like a reasonable choice."

"I'm inclined to agree," Hisame sighed. "Alright, I'll go find Taghai and see what rates the different captains would charge. Let's reconvene in an hour."

* * *

**_Four months later..._ **

Trodding up the white limestone steps of Limsa Lominsa, Hisame made his way to their apartment, a sack of groceries slung over his shoulder. The cries of seabirds rang out incessantly overhead, the soft roar of the ocean smashing into the cliffs below echoing the bird's squawking. Afternoon sunlight glittered off the ocean like hundreds of diamonds, as two heavily armed frigates drifted towards the docks below. Merchantmen and fishing vessels sailed past them, bound for deeper waters. Hisame's apartment was located high on the upper level of the city, one large room bored directly from the rocky cliff the city rested against. Even at this distance, the murmur of the dockhands and market crowds below was audible, a constant reminder of just how many people were present. It was an incredibly alien sensation, for one so used to quiet nights upon the Steppe.

"I'm back," Hisame announced, opening his apartment door and stepping inside.

Their apartment was a spartan affair, being only two beds, a wooden floor, and stone walls. The three of them had agreed to take turns sleeping upon the floor with a spare bedroll. One corner of the room held all of their weapons, as well as a handful of chests and crates full of the modest wealth their adventuring efforts had won them. Sechen was bent over in front of a simple chimney built into the rock, tail lazily wagging in the air as she lit a fire.

"Welcome back," Sechen acknowledged without stopping her work.

Once the fire caught, she went over to a counter on the wall, where a knife and chopped vegetables and raw meat were waiting. Dropping off his sack of groceries, Hisame embraced his wife from behind, kissing her on the cheek.

"Doing alright?" he asked.

"As well as can be expected," she sighed, smiling sadly at him before returning his affections. "Did you find everything?"

"More or less," Hisame nodded, gesturing to the bag. "There was one stall offering a good deal for oranges, so I bought a dozen."

"Ooh, good," Sechen said, turning back to her food preparations. "I like those."

"I have no idea why you enjoy them so," Hisame chuckled. "But yes, that's why I got them."

"This still feels passing strange, you know," Sechen mutered. "Doing the cooking while my husband returns from the hunt."

"Is it really a hunt if your weapons are coins?" Hisame asked, raising a bemused eyebrow. "This is just the best use of our talents, right now. You know that."

"Aye, I do," she nodded.

Hisame moved to join his wife, putting away their newly obtained foodstuffs and helping her to prepare their meal, grabbing another knife and slicing his share of vegetables. They were quiet for a while, focused on their work.

"Was there any sign of Taghai today?" Hisame asked quietly.

"No," Sechen answered. "I've not seen him since he stormed out. It was a fool's argument, you know."

"I know," Hisame sighed. "But I didn't force him to do it. The fire was my suggestion, and he went along with it. To try and blame all of this on me was equally foolish. I just wanted him to acknowledge that..."

"Yes, a drunken ramble is _such_ an effective way of getting one's point across," Sechen said, rolling her eyes.

"Well I can hardly take back words to a man who's no longer here, can I?" Hisame snapped, slapping his palm onto the counter and glaring at Sechen in anger.

Her gaze met his. She raised an eyebrow, unamused by his outburst.

"I'm sorry," Hisame sighed, anger fading in an instant. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I know...I know you're right. It doesn't matter who was right or wrong. We both acted like children."

"That's more like it," Sechen nodded. "If he does come back, apologize like a man and strive to get along. We need friends in this strange land, and I'll not play mother to the two of you, squabbling like dodo chicks."

"I'll ask around the Drowned Wench later," Hisame nodded, turning his attention back to the vegetables. "He said he was leaving to seek his fortune alone...perhaps some of our adventuring friends saw which way he went."

"Oh, speaking of mothers," Sechen added. "I'm pregnant."

Hisame's knife-wielding hand, poised to slice down upon an unsuspecting turnip, froze in midair.

"Eh?" he mumbled, turning to his wife to confirm if he had really just heard that.

Sechen kept her attention on her own vegetables, her face betraying no emotion.

"You are?" Hisame questioned. "I mean...you're really...you're serious?"

"Of course," Sechen paused, looking up at him with a slight frown. "Why would I joke about that? Did you think yourself impotent?"

"Ah," Hisame nodded, face cracking into a panicked smile. "I see. Hmm. Well...I suppose we're going to need a bigger room, aren't we?"

"A life of adventuring isn't going to be possible when I'm too pregnant to fight," Sechen sighed, brushing a stray hair out of her face. "We need to settle down somewhere that doesn't involve slaying beasts to survive. This city has plenty of work with their crusade against the rat-men, but it reeks of danger. Treachery and theft around every dark alley...this is no place to raise a child."

Cradling his chin between his thumb and index finger, Hisame closed his eyes in thought.

"What about Gridania?" he suggested. "Recall what that captain told us, back in Doma? If the forest is truly as bounteous as he claimed, mayhap we could provide for ourselves without needing to fight."

"That's what I was thinking," Sechen nodded.

"There's preparations to make, then," Hisame nodded. "I'll have to go find a horsebird porter. When should we go?"

"I see no reason to delay," Sechen shrugged. "Time is not our ally."

"I guess I'll be off, then," Hisame blinked, gathering up his things.

"Dinner will be ready soon, so don't tarry," Sechen advised, kissing him on the cheek before he left.

"Huh," Hisame muttered to himself as he descended the limestone steps.

He was going to be a father. That was all he could really think.

"Huh," he repeated.

* * *

**_A few months later..._ **

Hisame was burning.

Violent, purple flames licked and lashed along his body, laughing wickedly as they engulfed him.

"Look, look," a black, burnt child cried. "Look what you did! Look what you made me!"

He didn't want to look. He turned his head away, but the flames grabbed hold of him and turned him. They made him look, they made him see, and then they burned their way into his eyes, so that the image would never leave. The acrid stench of death and bile filled his nostrils, sending him spinning, tumbling into a black abyss, the screeching laughter of murdered children all around him...

"Gah!" Gasping, Hisame shot awake, leaning up in his bed.

Panting and covered in sweat, he glanced around his home, confirming that once again, it was all in his head.

"Mm?" his stirring woke his sleeping wife, who blinked through her drowsiness as she turned to look at him. "Oh, my sweet...it was the nightmare again, wasn't it?"

Nodding at his wife, Hisame pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to take a deep breath to steady his racing heart. There was no sleep to be had once the nightmare woke him. The sun was only barely beginning to rise above the Twelveswood, but he slid out of the bedsheets to begin his day. He made his way to the kitchen, glancing out at the scenery of the South Shroud. The morning sunrise always had a calming effect on him, and watching the beautiful light beginning to peak through the canopy of leaves helped him steady himself.

Hearing a grunt of exertion behind him, Hisame saw his wife scooting off their bed, bracing herself against the wall as she rose to her feet. Her belly was heavily rounded now, swelling with the new life growing within her.

"Go back to sleep, love," Hisame suggested. "Just because I'm awake doesn't mean you need to be."

"Feel like all I do lately is sleep and lie down," Sechen grumbled, pulling out a pan and some vegetables, starting to cook up a morning meal. "If I can't hunt, then I'm going to do all I can within the house, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"If you insist," Hisame smiled. "I'm blessed to have such a strong wife. I'll leave breakfast to you, then. I think I'll forage for a while, and head to the city proper after our meal."

"You have business there today?" Sechen asked. "I thought you already went to the market."

"No, this is for something else," Hisame explained. "You see, I met one of those Lalafells the other day while out in the field - a woman named Fufucha. She too is a skilled forager, and after a conversation, she bid me come to the guild of botanists, to which she belongs to. It seems that if I joined, I would have more opportunity for work, and like-minded individuals to share knowledge with. It seems like a wise idea."

"By all means," Sechen nodded. "These Eorzean guilds seem an impressive thing. Once I can move at a faster pace than an adamantoise's waddle, I'd like to visit the carpenter's guild. If they are as talented as I hear, perhaps I'll commission a new bow, once I can hunt again."

"This place suits us, don't you think?" Hisame nodded. "I'm still not used to looking up and seeing that great canopy, but...life here isn't so unlike home."

"Aye," Sechen agreed. "T'is like joining a new tribe. The people here are wary of outsiders, understandably so, given the consequences of offending this land's guardian spirits. We have to prove to them - both of them - that we deserve our place."

Leaning over to embrace her husband again, the two shared a tender moment before turning back to their respective tasks.

"Oh!" Sechen winced, pulling away. "I do wish she would stop kicking..."

"You think it will be a girl, eh?" Hisame smiled.

"I know," Sechen smirked. "She's fierce and strong, like her mother."

"Implying that I'm not?" Hisame pouted in mock offense.

"Go well," Sechen laughed, pushing her husband out the door. "Breakfast will be ready when you return."


	18. Year 1545 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1545 of the Sixth Astral Era**

A shimmer of blue light distorted the air, sparking briefly before evaporating. A worried-looking man appeared from the distortion, quickly glancing around Gridania's aetheryte plaza. Magical transportation was usually too draining on his energy to be worthwhile, but this was an emergency.

"Ah, Mister Hisame?" a woman's voice called.

Turning in the voice's direction, Hisame saw a white-robed Elezen woman waving to him, and hurried over to her.

"Miounne, was it?" Hisame asked, recognizing the woman.

"Yes," she smiled, offering a half-bow. "I'm an assistant with the conjurer's guild. Please, follow me to Stillglade Fen."

"I came as soon as I heard," Hisame explained, following the woman. "How did it go? Is she alright?"

"Your wife and child are both fine," Miounne smiled. "Our midwives have healing talents and are very experienced with soothing the birthing pains. Though they have never assisted an Au Ra before, there were no difficulties."

"Oh, thank the gods," Hisame sighed. "No matter what I did, I couldn't stop worrying about worst-case situations."

"Yes, that's fairly common with new fathers," Miounne laughed.

"Oh, is it a boy or a girl?" Hisame asked.

"I won't spoil that surprise," she smiled. "Come, this way."

A short trek later, Miounne led Hisame into a large wooden building, built spiraling along a colossal tree trunk. Dozens of mages in white robes walked to and fro, guiding patients around as some families waited in gathering areas.

"Second floor, third room on the left," Miounne nodded, pointing to a set of stairs.

"My thanks!" Hisame nodded, hurrying towards the steps and taking them two at a time.

He felt wearily drained from the teleportation, and gripped the railing firmly, forcing his body to obey his will. Making it to the top, he slowed his pace so as not to accidentally collide with anyone, and opened the hospital door gently. Sechen rested upon a clean bed, cradling a bundle of cloth to her chest, looking down at her baby with a smile that radiated the warmth and love befitting a new mother.

"There you are," Sechen said softly, looking up at her husband. "Took you long enough."

"I teleported as soon as I received word," Hisame apologized, moving to his wife's side. "Are you alright? How did it go?"

"I wouldn't describe it as a pleasant process," Sechen frowned. "But it was hardly the excruciating trial I was led to believe. These conjurers are really something."

Looking down, Hisame finally saw his child, sleeping within the cloth bundle that rose and fell with little breaths. The sides of her face were covered with soft, white scales, a pair of tiny nubs sprouting from the sides of her head that would eventually grow into horns. A few strands of red hair poked out from the cloth as Sechen stroked the baby's forehead with her finger.

"A girl," Sechen smiled. "Just like I told you. It seems white scales and red hair run in the family, hmm?"

Offering up their daughter to her husband, Sechen passed over the bundle of cloth, which Hisame held gently in his hands, carefully rocking her back and forth. Wonder and joy played across his face, and he met his wife's eyes, unable to say anything, only letting out a laugh of disbelief.

"She's beautiful," Hisame smiled. "She may not have your hair, skin, or scales, but look...she has your eyes."

Hisame pulled up a chair and sat down next to his wife. The two enjoyed a quiet stillness for a while, basking in the serenity of the moment.

"I know what I want to name her," Sechen said after a while. "Sarika."

"Sarika?" Hisame repeated. It had a familiar ring to it, but he couldn't exactly place it.

"T'is formed from two root Xaela words," Sechen nodded. "But blended together with symbolism befitting a Raen name. The name is formed from _mercy_ and _strength._ "

"Ah!" Hisame nodded in understanding. "Sarika...yes, that seems a fine name."

"We have to do right by her," Sechen said. Her voice was soft, but eyes held a grave seriousness to them. "Through her, we have a chance. To bring joy into the world, to fill that void from which we took."

"We can never make up for our sin," Hisame said, shaking his head. "We can but do our best to improve the world in spite of it. Little Sarika...we'll teach her to be a strong, kind woman."

"And guide her to learn on her own," Sechen added. "She knows naught of the Steppe and our old life. She is a child of Eorzea, and should learn all manner of things unknown to us. I would not have her repeat our mistakes."

"Agreed," Hisame nodded.

The couple remained in the hospital for another day as Sechen recovered from her ordeal, before returning home with their newborn daughter. They carried a blossoming hope in their hearts, that their daughter would learn all she could and become a wise, strong woman, tempered by a kind soul. However, Hisame and Sechen had no idea just how fitting of a name they had given their daughter, for Sarika was possessed of a peculiar power yet unknown to them...

* * *

"You refer to the Blessing of Light?" Fordola asked as Sarika finished.

"No, that came later," Sarika nodded. "I refer to the Echo."

"The Echo?" Fordola repeated. "I thought that was a power that awakened later in life."

"People are born with the Echo," Sarika explained. "It's rare, but not tremendously so. More people have it than you might think. The gift comes in varying levels of strength, however. Some people may not even be aware of it, while others understand they have some sort of ability, but have never learned of its true nature. The myth that people suddenly manifest the Echo is simply the result of people becoming aware of their ability at later ages. Didn't Zenos's scientists tell you that?"

"They told me only what I needed to know," Fordola shrugged, causing her chains to clink. "Which was very little."

"That sounds like the Empire," Sarika sighed. "Well, anyroad, that's how I came to be. Though it's perhaps reasonable to assume I left the Steppe to seek adventure, given how rare Au Ra are outside Othard, I am, and always have been, Eorzean."

"It makes more sense now why the Empire's file on you was so lacking," Fordola hummed. "Their agents can hardly go to the Steppe and ask around."

"The Empire is not known for its subtlety," Sarika nodded in agreement. "Anyroad, the final part of the tale should be shorter than the others, so I imagine there's still time enough in the day, if you'd like to hear it."

"I would," Fordola nodded. "How did a little girl in the forest become a slayer of gods?"

"I'm glad you asked," Sarika grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again it's time to timeskip into the final segment of the story - that of Sarika's own childhood and growth.
> 
> To understand different areas of the game better, I flew around for a few hours and did every single sidequest in the Steppe and Gridania. Most of it is redundant 'please collect five bear asses' type of fetch quests, but it's still useful for learning the every day lives and struggles of regular people in the areas. Plus, there are a few sidequests that are genuinely interesting or fun - most of the storylines tied to Aether Currents were pretty neat!


	19. Year 1552 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1552 of the Sixth Astral Era**

"Is this one good?" a young, red-headed girl was crouched over a purple weed growing at the base of a majestic oak tree.

"Aye, that looks reasonable," her father nodded, crouching next to his daughter. "Do you want to get this one?"

"Yeah!" Sarika cheered. "Can I, please?"

"Alright," Hisame smiled, ruffling her hair. "Do it like I showed you. Remember?"

"Grasp the leaves," Sarika repeated, grabbing the plant with one and and tugging it upwards. "And press the knife against the stem."

"That's it," Hisame nodded. "Slowly, carefully now. We don't want you cutting yourself."

Focusing intensely, Sarika sliced the weed at its stem, separating the top half and depositing the purple leaves into a small basket.

"I did it!" she beamed.

"Very good," her father said. "Now, don't forget the roots."

"Oh, right."

Placing her hand around the severed stem, Sarika yanked the plant up, ripping out the roots from the soil and depositing those too.

"Let's get a few more and then head home," Hisame nodded, standing up and brushing off his legs. "Do you remember what we can use these weeds for?"

"Umm..." Sarika looked away in thought. "You stick em in water and boil em, an' then you drink it if your tummy hurts."

"Mm," Hisame hummed in agreement, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun as he scanned the Black Shroud for other harvesting opportunities. "We'll keep some for ourselves and sell the rest."

"Does that mean we get to go to the city again?" Sarika asked, her short little tail perking up in excitement.

"As long as you behave yourself, I don't see why not," Hisame smiled. "We can also take a look at where you'll be going to school."

Chuckling as his daughter cheered and ran circles around him, jumping and hollering in excitement, Hisame shepherded his daughter around the safest, shallowest part of the Shroud, teaching her of all manner of useful plants and how to harvest them. Eventually, he decided it was best to return home before his wife beat them there. Making their way back to their house, the two unpacked their harvested greenery, washed their hands, and made their way to the kitchen.

"Come, let's get dinner started before your mother returns," Hisame instructed. "You know how hungry she can be after hunting."

"Like a big grumpy bear," Sarika giggled. "Roar! Where's my dinner?"

"Who's this I hear roaring?" a woman's voice asked. "What beast has snuck into my home?"

Hisame looked behind him to see his wife standing at their home's threshold, her bow slung behind her back.

"Mama!" Sarika beamed, rushing over to embrace her mother's legs.

"Hello, my sweet," Sechen smiled, crouching down and returning her daughter's affections. "How was your time with your father? Find anything interesting?"

"We found lotsa purple plants!" Sarika grinned. "One was a weed with really spiky leaves. Another one was like a long stick, and it smelled really good!"

"It was a productive day," Hisame chuckled. "How fared your hunt, love?"

"Squirrels and marmots," Sechen sighed, offering a shrug. "Hardly the most challenging prey, but it will keep the larders stocked. Ah, but it smells wonderful in here. Already cooking?"

"We're making soup!" Sarika explained, tugging on her mother's hand and dragging her over to the kitchen. "With onions and carrots, and some of the bay-leaves that I picked."

"Give me a minute to put down my things and I'll come help you," Sechen smiled.

After hanging up her bow and quiver, Sechen tugged off her hunting cloak and put it away, checking that it was free of mud and bloodstains before joining her family in the kitchen. They worked together, chopping vegetables and stoking a fire to boil the pot of water, chatting and humming in easygoing serenity.

"Daddy," Sarika asked after a while, "what do the fires mean?"

"Fires?" Hisame blinked, looking to his wife but finding only a similar look of confusion. "What fires, darling?"

"When I sleep, sometimes I see fires," Sarika explained, carefully slicing a carrot into tiny pieces. "But it's not like the fire we have in the chimney. This one is purple, and it's mean and bad. I don't know why I keep seeing it in my dreams."

Hisame looked to his wife again, jaw agape. In her expression, he sought an answer - had he mumbled in his sleep? Drunken too much and forgot what he had said, somehow giving his daughter this idea that she should not have? But again, Sechen was equally confused, and sharing a growing sense of horrible shock.

"I don't know, darling," Hisame admitted. "Try not to think on it too hard, okay? It was probably just a bad dream."

"Okay," Sarika acknowledged.

"Well then!" Sechen cleared her throat, quickly changing the subject. "Sarika, since your eighth nameday is coming up soon, what do you think about finally learning to use a bow like I do?"

"Really?" Sarika gasped, placing her cutting knife upon the counter. "That would be the best! I want to do it, yeah!"

"Well, next time you go foraging with your father, be on the lookout for something I can spin into a suitable bowstring," Sechen nodded, patting her daughter on the head. "It's giving away your present, but I think it's time I made you a training bow."

Coiling and bouncing up like a spring, Sarika let out another shout of jubilation.

"Can we go find flax tomorrow?" she asked, turning to her father. "Can we, can we?"

"We're going into town tomorrow, remember?" Hisame chuckled.

"Oh, right." Sarika's mood dropped for a moment, only to soar back up moments later. "Well, what about the next day? Can we go then, pleeeease?"

"Alright," Hisame relented with an amused sigh. "But only if you're a good girl and eat _all_ your vegetables, and help wash up once we're done with dinner."

"Deal!" Sarika grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the 51 scales art for the Dazkar. It inspired more of a general mood than a specific scene, but I like it: https://i.imgur.com/C2PXAH3.png


	20. Year 1554 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1554 of the Sixth Astral Era**

"Exhale," Sechen commanded. "Push all the breath out of your lungs."

Obeying her mother's instructions, Sarika let out a long, slow breath, pulling back on her bow's drawstring. With one eye open, she took aim at a brown squirrel nibbling on some fallen acorns, arrow poised and ready.

She released.

The arrow flew forward, sailing just over the squirrel's head and embedding itself in a tree trunk. Alerted, the squirrel dashed off in a panic, leaving its savory feast behind.

"Shoot!" Sarika groaned, stomping her foot in frustration. "Oh, it's no use! I can't hit one!"

"Just because you have yet to hit one does not mean you are unable," her mother corrected. "No one who is skilled was born with that knowledge, Sarika. Even a Dazkar woman misses on occasion."

"Right," Sarika sighed. "Failure is just an opportunity to develop..."

"And?" Sechen prompted. "Why did you miss?"

"Because I aimed too high."

"Why did you aim too high?"

"Because..." Sarika frowned. "I corrected at the last second, when I was actually right the first time."

"Your excitement and nervousness are getting the better of you," Sechen nodded. "Once you take aim, you have already determined where you will place your arrow. In your mind's eye, the arrow has already arrived. All that remains is for your body to make it so. Once you draw your string next, empty your thoughts, your feelings, and your expectations along with your breath. Let nothing cloud your sight, and make your vision reality."

Nodding, Sarika crouched low again, moving through the brush as her mother wordlessly followed her. After a few minutes, Sarika spied another ground squirrel and silently stalked it, maneuvering for a better angle. Once again, she nocked an arrow and pulled back the string, releasing her breath. She held this pose for a moment, clearing her mind of all thought and emotion. She was utterly silent, absorbed into the moment as if she were the bow itself.

She released.

The arrow hissed forward, piercing the squirrel's side and sending it rolling over, lying motionless upon the soil.

Blinking, Sarika looked at her quarry, processing what she had just done.

"I did it," she muttered, slowly standing up.

"I did it!" she repeated, face curling into a look of triumphant relief. "I got it!"

"Well aimed," Sechen nodded, unhooking a knife from her waist and handing it to her daughter. "Now, handle the rest, as I have taught you."

Nodding and taking the knife, Sarika went over to her kill and got to work, slicing off the squirrel's pelt with careful, measured incisions.

"We do not celebrate death," Sechen lectured, watching her daughter work. "This creature, like you, had a family. Parents who birthed it, cared for it, and perhaps it even had children of its own. We take its life so that its flesh and its fur may fill our needs. We will not mourn it, but neither shall we waste it. You must _never_ draw an arrow, my daughter, if you do not mean to kill with it. Your goal must be to ensure that the suffering you inflict with your arrow will be outweighed by the suffering you relieve by taking your quarry's life. To kill without purpose is an unforgivable sin."

"I understand, mother," Sarika nodded, standing up once she finished her work. "How was that?"

"Acceptable," Sechen nodded, surveying her daughter's handiwork. "You learn well through observation."

"I have a good instructor," Sarika smiled.

"Come, our hunt is not over," her mother nodded, not concealing her own smile. "You have until midday. Show me what you can do."


	21. Year 1555 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1555 of the Sixth Astral Era**

Hisame was seated at the kitchen table, opposite his wife, as they prepared various plants for market, chopping off withering leaves and wrapping the quality specimens together in neat bundles of twine. Medicinal herbs typically fetched the best sums, but different spices and nuts had been finding increased values of late, as well.

Two sharp knocks at the door drew their attention, Hisame looking up and placing down his cutting knife.

"I wasn't aware we were expecting company," Sechen frowned, getting up and moving towards the door.

"Neither was I," Hisame shrugged.

Opening the door, Sechen found two visitors outside. An Elezen man in leather armor, with a long, sharp lance at his back awaited them, along with a blonde-haired boy with black bull-horns growing atop his head, less than half his companion's height.

"Fair afternoon to you," the boy greeted, bowing politely. "Pray forgive the interruption, but you are Sechen Malaguld, are you not?"

"I am," Sechen frowned. "What brings you to my doorstep, boy?"

The boy's bodyguard raised an eyebrow at her remark, but seemed otherwise unbothered.

"Oh!" Hisame exclaimed, hurrying over to the door as he realized just who his visitor was. "Pray forgive her, Master Padjal, she meant no offense."

"Padjal?" Sechen blinked, taking a more thorough look at her guest. "Oh, my apologies! People with horns are far from unusual, in our homeland. Perhaps I've simply been too long without sleep, but I thought you were an Auri child at first glance."

"It is quite alright," the boy smiled. "Being mistaken for a child, I am quite accustomed to, though I have to admit your reasoning is a first. Ahem. I am E-Sumi-Yan, master of the conjurer's guild here in Gridania. What brings me to your doorstep this day concerns your daughter, Sarika."

"Sarika?" Hisame repeated. "Has something happened at school?"

"Yes, but nothing of grim concern, I assure you," the Padjal nodded. "I shall be brief. Yesterday, a teacher observed your daughter playing by the river. She was joining many other children in skipping stones across the water."

"That's hardly unusual," Sechen said.

"Indeed," Yan nodded. "However, her method of doing so was quite extraordinary, for she was moving the stones without touching them."

"Without touching them?" Hisame repeated. "You mean...with geomancy?"

"Ah, geomancy is an eastern school of the selfsame magic as conjury, is it not?" Yan asked. "Much the same principles - control of earth, wind, and water - but with regional differences, yes. I admit, I approached your daughter after I learned of this, and asked her to demonstrate the same trick again, which she did with ease. Simply put, as guildmaster, I have decades of experience with identifying promising young conjurers, and your daughter seems to be exceptionally talented."

"Come again?" Sechen blinked.

"The magic of nature flows with ease to her," Yan nodded. "It's as if she isn't exerting any effort at all. To cut to the point, I must insist that she enroll as an apprentice with the conjurer's guild as soon as possible."

"Insist," Sechen pointed out, narrowing her eyebrows. "Not request."

"Unfortunately so," Yan nodded. "Conjury, or geomancy as you know it, is a wonderful, powerful gift. But the power over the natural elements is not one to be wielded lightly within the Twelveswood. An inexperienced mage may call upon powers beyond their control, or a selfish one may use them to indulge in their own wicked purposes. Suffice to say that the elementals do not discriminate between violators of their equilibrium, whether it be the innocent meddling of a child or the malevolent intent of a villain. For her sake as much as those around her, she must be trained and learn to control her talent."

"I see," Hisame nodded, rubbing his chin. "Young mages were taught a similar sentiment, back in my homeland. Though I suppose the consequences are much higher here, should aught go amiss."

"You are, of course, welcome to come visit our facility and instructors," Yan offered. "I would be happy to tell you of our training and answer any questions that give you concern."

"Alright," Sechen shrugged. "If this must happen, then let's go now. If there's aught that would endanger my daughter, I would learn all I can of it."

"Where is Sarika now?" Hisame questioned.

"Still at her school," Yan nodded. "We would not dare drag her away against her parent's wishes. It is best for children to hear the explanation from the mouths of their parents, rather than strangers. Rest assured that she will still be receiving a standard education in addition to her arcane training."

"Very well," Hisame nodded. "Let us be off, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Twelveswood is no place for an untrained mage. Learn to control your power or risk being smited by the greenwrath. The Padjals are well aware of how the White Mages of Amdapor played their part in the Sixth Umbral Calamity, and would certainly take great cautions in training children who display magical talents.


	22. Year 1556 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1556 of the Sixth Astral Era**

A young Sarika sat cross-legged before a tranquil pool of water, inside a mossy cave illuminated by torchlight. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and steady as her mentor slowly circled around her.

"Focus on the life around you," E-Sumi-Yan advised. "From the smallest mouse to the greatest treant. The water flows through the creeks as the air breezes through the treetops. Feel the soil all around you, and embrace it. Breathe deeply...open your eyes. Now, observe me."

Holding out his hand, Yan tore a small rock from the cave wall, and levitated it in the air. Sarika watched carefully as her mentor pushed the floating rock towards the pool of water and lowered it inside. After a moment, he brought it back up, surrounded by a bubble of water that kept its shape even outside of the pool. Holding his hands behind his back, he conjured a current of air that pushed the bubble-encased rock around the cave in a circle, much to Sarika's awe.

"This is to be your trial," Yan explained. "T'is a simple one, to be sure, but it will require a strong mastery over the basics of conjury. Now, show me your attempt."

Nodding, Sarika pulled out a small wand that looked like a twig with leaves on it, and focused her energies, ripping a chunk of stone from the cave wall. When she moved to dip it into the water, however, her control faltered, and the rock _plopped_ into the water below.

"That's hard!" Sarika gasped. "It's not just the earth...I have to use all three elements at the same time, don't I?"

"I said that it would be simple," Yan smiled. "Not easy. There is no shortcut to mastering this ability, Sarika. You must practice, day after day. Do you understand?"

"I do," Sarika nodded.

"Good," Yan smiled. "Now, let us start your journey towards mastery by breaking this down into small steps. First, take a sphere of water from the pool, and a piece of stone from the earth. Levitate them both in the air at the same time. Do not attempt to combine them."

Doing as she was instructed, Sarika levitated a glob of water from the pool, but as soon as she reached into the earth with her magic, her concentration over the water faltered, and it splashed back into the pool.

"Smaller," Yan advised. "Use less water. Find what you can manage now, and slowly build your way up from there."

Repeating her attempt, Sarika conjured a much smaller sphere of water, and took only a pebble from the earth. Shutting her eyes and gritting her teeth in concentration, she strained against the magic, diligently trying to maintain her hold over them before gasping and losing her magical grip.

"Good," Yan nodded. "Each day, attempt a similar maneuver. Slowly use more water and larger rocks as your power develops. An untrained conjurer is like a flooding river, Sarika. You may call more power than you imagined, arcane strength flooding through your body and devastating all in its wake. As you develop your skills, it will be akin to building a dam or a gate over the river, that you can throw wide whenever you wish."

"I understand," Sarika nodded. "I have to go slowly."

"And should you feel yourself straining, stop immediately," Yan nodded. "You will not complete this trial for some time, so do not force yourself beyond your limits. Nudge them further, one day at a time. That will be all for today - you are dismissed. Go and rejoin your classmates for lunch."

"Thank you, Master Yan," Sarika bowed. "I won't let you down!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I just had to include a little reference to a widely-memed phrase in there! I haven't started Shadowbringers yet (I'm going to as soon as I finish formatting this story for the website) and even I know that people really love their gates.


	23. Year 1558 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1558 of the Sixth Astral Era**

The sound of whittling knives and tearing saws filled the carpenter's workshop floor, clinking of tiny hammers and heavy footsteps across the pine floor joining the chaotic arrangement.

"Well well, look what the gaelicat dragged in," an Elezen man in spectacles declared, taking note of a red-haired young woman working on a piece of timber at one of the workshop's many crafting tables.

"Back again, girl?" he asked, stepping to Sarika's side.

"Oh, Master Beatin!" Sarika gasped, drawn out of her trance-like work state. "My apologies for not seeking you out, but you seemed quite busy."

"Ah, so she recognizes when the guildmaster is and isn't occupied," Beatin chuckled, shaking his head. "That makes you better than half of my veteran staff already, girl. Now then, what do you have to show me today?"

"I'm still working on the bow," Sarika nodded, stepping aside. "But I finished the staff."

Picking up a wooden staff with the motif of a spiraling snake coiling around the shaft, she held it out to the guildmaster for inspection. Beatin took the staff, ran his fingers over it, brought it close to his eyes, sniffed it, then finally rubbed the staff against his cheek before nodding and handing it back to his pupil.

"Your sanding is lacking," he explained with a sigh. "The snake design has a few inconsistencies and is not symmetrical, and I can tell there were some imprecise cuts that were not completely corrected."

Sarika nodded, knowing that the guildmaster always started with his negative critiques and waiting to see what else he had to say.

"However," Beatin nodded. "As a whole, the craftsmanship is sturdy, and the staff will conduct magical energies with acceptable efficiency. The detailing is a tad sloppy, yes, but it is far beyond what I would expect from a novice of but a few months. Had someone presented this to me without telling me who had crafted it, I would have guessed a student of at least two years."

"Excellent!" Sarika smiled, pumping her fist in the air. "I've been needing a new staff for my conjury training, so I thought I might as well try to make my own. Rough but effective is good enough for me!"

"Good enough," Beatin sighed. "Ah, how I despise those words. But yes, you are correct - there is little sense in crafting a masterwork for a purpose that it does not suit. For a simple training staff, this should serve well enough. But pray tell, from who did you learn this? Unless I was _far_ deeper into my cups than I thought, my last lesson for you was making arrow shafts, not conjurer's staves."

"It was," Sarika nodded. "I just saw someone else making one and asked if I could watch. I just paid very close attention and then tried to copy what I saw. The principle isn't that different from arrow shafts, really. It's just a larger scale."

"Spoken as if she herself were the instructor," Beatin smiled. "Your talent for learning through observation is remarkable, girl. Would that all my pupils were so supernaturally gifted..."

"Oh, I don't know about all that," Sarika blushed. "It didn't seem that hard, really. I made a few mistakes at first but I got the hang of things after a while."

"Don't let the other novices catch you saying that," Beatin chuckled. "I've given some an earful so many times that they're like to boil over with envious rage!"

"Oh, speaking of boiling over," Beatin hummed, suddenly possessed by curiosity, "that reminds me of what the Gerolt fellow was asking about the other day. Wood having a use for kettle smithing? It sounds like madness, but perhaps..."

Muttering to himself, Beatin wandered over to his personal workstation, beginning to scribble on some blueprints and pulling out some wood samples. There was no conversing to be had once he was inspired - Sarika would simply have to wait to ask her other questions.

Shrugging and smiling, she turned back to her own efforts and resumed work on her half-finished bow. Her mother's hunting bow had been worn down over the years, and she felt fletching a replacement would make a suitable gift for her upcoming nameday.

"Now then," Sarika nodded, summoning her guildmaster's mantra to mind. "Know the wood, be the wood, love the wood..."


	24. Year 1560 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1560 of the Sixth Astral Era**

"Wow!" Sarika exclaimed with glee. "Look at just how _tall_ everything is! People really built all this?"

Walking alongside her father, Sarika strode through the plaza of Limsa Lominsa, _oohing_ and _aahing_ every ten feet. It was the afternoon of a weekend day, and the city was bustling with activity. Roegadyn sailors walked past in a group, laughing heartily. Lalafellin merchants hopped up and down from the stools behind their stalls, crying out their many wares as they attempted to drown out their competitor's voices. Two Miqo'te women clad in irregular, but impressive looking armor marched past, headed towards the adventurer's guild.

"Your mother and I were equally impressed when we first arrived here, too," Hisame chuckled. "It was such a stark difference from what we were used to."

"Again with that," Sarika pouted. "You never tell me any specifics about what your home was like! Why are you and mother so scared to tell me?"

"You know why," Hisame frowned. "It is...difficult. The memories of that place are not pleasant ones."

Hisame and his wife had long since learned that their daughter's uncanny intuition was seldom wrong. He _was_ scared of her ever learning of his past, and Sarika could be as stubborn as an untrained horsebird at times.

"Let's take care of what we came to do," Hisame nodded, swiftly changing the topic. "Once we've found what we need, shall we have lunch at that restaurant at the upper levels? I hear it's good. Oh, and don't forget to attune to the aetheryte. You never know if you'll need to come back in a hurry, eh?"

"Fine," Sarika shrugged. "And then we can go fishing, right?"

"That's what we brought the rods for," Hisame chuckled.

Fishing had been an unexpectedly satisfying hobby for Hisame. The Malaguld rarely lingered near the One River, and the small lakes and oases around the Steppe did not contain fish. It had been a traveler from Limsa Lominsa that had suggested it to him, and it was something that he learned for himself alongside his daughter. She picked up the intricacies of the profession far faster than he did, of course, but neither of them treated it like a competition. It was a way to relax and unwind while still remaining productive, bonding as father and daughter.

After haggling with the local merchants to buy the few bits and bobs that they couldn't find in Gridania, the two made their way to the Bismarck and enjoyed a delicious - if expensive - lunch together, before heading down to the fisherman's wharf at the lowest level of the city. Finding a suitably empty spot, the two sat upon the docks and unpacked their rods, equipping them with especially long lines before casting them far into the ocean.

"So," Hisame sighed, adjusting his posture as he sat down upon the dock, "you're set to receive official recognition as a conjurer soon, right?"

"Mhm," Sarika nodded. "Technically I could have graduated last year, since I've had the basics mastered for a while now, but Master Yan convinced me to learn more about healing."

"Healing, eh?" Hisame said. "T'is a noble profession, and always in demand. Is that what you want to become?"

Sarika was quiet for a moment, casting her gaze far out across the ocean, watching ships moving in and out of the harbor.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I'm good at it, and I want to help people. Healing is a great way to do that. But...I want to go to different places. Learn different things, and meet different people. I can't do that by staying in Gridania my whole life. Maybe I'll find something I'm even better at than conjury, something I could use to do even more good. I've been talking with all sorts of people, back at our own adventurer's guild. They have all sorts of different weapons, and magic, and stories...even the ways they eat and talk are different!"

"Sounds like you're catching a case of wanderlust," Hisame chuckled. "T'is a feeling your mother would understand well."

"Oh?" Sarika prompted.

"Back on the Steppe, your mother was...bored, with her life," Hisame explained. "Hunting the same prey, over and over. Always returning home, just waiting for the next day. Nothing excited her. She yearned for new experiences. After we met and fell in love, she joined my clan. That gave her a world of new opportunities - skills to learn, stories to hear. She was...she seemed much happier for it."

Hisame smiled to himself, closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift to the past for a moment.

"Listen to me, Sarika," he nodded, looking at his daughter with a serious expression. "Most people who think they crave adventure have a certain ideal in their head. Of heroes, clashing against terrible beasts, saving the tribe, gaining wealth, finding love, making a name for themselves that will last through legend. Most who fancy themselves adventurers swiftly find out just how unprepared they are for real danger, and end up scarred or worse. It can be thrilling, profitable, and there's a world of good you can do for others by becoming one. So if this is the life you want for yourself, I will support you fully - but only if you prove to me that you understand the reality of it."

"I do understand it," Sarika frowned. "I had to practice healing at the hospital. I know what sort of awful injuries people get, so it's not like I'm in a rush to go charge into some dungeon for the glory of it. Back at the guild...there was this one group. Four friends, all adventurers. They were regulars...always ordered the same thing. They showed up a lot...until one night, only three of them did. They looked...horrified. Distant. I'm aware of the danger, father. People who aren't prepared for danger pay for it with their lives."

"But what's the alternative?" Sarika continued. "To bunker down and hide at home? The Black Shroud isn't without danger itself, father. Poisonous plants, hungry predators, even the elementals themselves. To cower at home, when I know I could help people elsewhere? That's just...too selfish."

"That reminds me of something my old khan once said," Hisame sighed. "That violence exists within the heart of every Xaela. That we should acknowledge it, respect it, but not let it consume us. I think...your mother would be proud, to hear you say such things. T'is the wish of every Dazkar mother for her daughter to hunt greater prey than she ever did."

"Then I'll have to show her how much I've improved once we get back," Sarika grinned. "That goes for you too, old man. If you don't keep up your own training, I'm gonna surpass your conjury before you know it!"

"Old man?!" Hisame repeated with mock offense. "Watch your tongue, little sprout. Though you may be my superior in fishing, I can still wrest the earth from your control. T'is like grasping pebbles from a child!"

"Then how about this," Sarika challenged, "once I beat you in a test of conjury, you have to give me your blessing to become an adventurer!"

"I'll accept that challenge," Hisame chuckled. "But don't think I'll hold back on you. Your mother would be furious with me if I did."


	25. Year 1562 of the Sixth Astral Era

**Year 1562 of the Sixth Astral Era**

Approaching the counter at the Adventurer's Guild, Sarika slapped down the paper she had been holding onto the wood surface, drawing the attention of a kind-looking Elezen woman.

"Fair morning, Sarika," Mother Miounne smiled. "What do you have for me?"

"My official application," Sarika beamed.

"Ah," Miounne nodded, returning her visitor's mirth. "So you finally beat your old man, did you?"

"Yep!" Sarika exclaimed. "We had three contests, and my mother was the judge. For the first, we had to drink a mild paralysis poison, and had to cure ourselves with magic. The first one who got to their feet was the winner."

"And how did that go?" Miounne asked, although she was certain she knew the result.

"It wasn't even a contest," Sarika laughed. "Father's healing is decent, but it can't hold a candle to me. I cleansed myself in about five seconds - he took two minutes. The next test was that of air...my mother procured two identical, heavy weights for us, and we had to launch them into an open field with blasts of air. Whoever launched theirs further ten times would be the winner."

"And how did your father fare?" Miounne asked.

"He beat me," Sarika shrugged. "I admit, he's stronger with the air than I am...for now, at least. He won ten to six. Our last challenge was that of the earth - he tore a chunk out of the earth, and we had to grapple for control over it. Whoever managed to launch it towards the other would be declared the victor."

"Grappling for control over the earth, hmm?" Miounne hummed. "I admit, that's a little difficult to picture."

"It's like arm wrestling," Sarika shrugged. "But it's with your magic instead of your arms. It's not a test of strength, per se...it's a battle of endurance, and knowing when to make a decisive move. You can't throw all of your strength behind every push, or you'll tire yourself out. You have to recognize when your opponent is genuinely weakened, and when they're feigning it to lure you in."

"I see," Miounne nodded. "Since you're standing here, I take it you won. How did the contest go?"

"It lasted six hours," Sarika grinned, holding her hands behind her head. "Even once the sun started setting, we refused to break. I was absolutely _drenched_ in sweat when it was finally over. We went back and forth, again and again...there were so many times when I thought I almost lost it, but recovered just in time, and just as many where I was an inch from victory and got pushed back. In the end, I saw how badly father was beginning to pant for breath, so I started circling around him to throw him off balance. Since I was at the outer edge of the circle, and he was at the center, he was spinning around a lot more than I was."

"Once I got him dizzy, I suddenly changed directions," Sarika continued. "I feigned an attack, and then, once I felt him try to defend, wham! I put as much force as I could into one attack and launched the rock past his side. Mother declared me the winner - and then she smacked the both of us on the head for being stubborn enough to make her sit there for six hours."

"That's quite the contest!" Miounne laughed. "Would that I could have seen it. But that aside, congratulations, Sarika. There will be some paperwork and formalities to attend to, but I have every confidence that your petition will be accepted. The next time you walk in here, it will very likely be as an officially-recognized adventurer."

"Thanks," Sarika smiled. "Oh, but by the way..."

Sarika's smile dropped off, her good mood subdued by worry.

"Have you heard any news about the Alliance's effort?" Sarika frowned. "The last I heard, the battle was met at Cartenau. But...the moon..."

Sarika didn't need to finish her sentence. The fate of the lesser moon, growing ever closer and staining the night skies an eerie blood-red, was a worry shared by all Eorzeans. Nael vas Darnus was supposedly dead, and the moon's descent should have stopped with him.

It had not.

"I'm afraid that's the latest information I've heard, as well," Miounne sighed. "For now, t'is all we can do to pray, as the Circle of Knowing asks. So for now, rest well, and keep our soldiers in your prayers. Come and see me tomorrow morning, all right? Everything should be sorted by then. With how frantic everything is, I've no doubt that there will be work available for you right away."

"Alright," Sarika nodded. "Thanks, Mother Miounne."

* * *

"Now, let me ask you something," Sarika nodded. "Where were you when the Calamity happened?"

"Ala Mhigo," Fordola answered. "I was training with my comrades. I heard the roars and the explosions, though I did not see them."

"I figured as much," Sarika nodded. "Ala Mhigo was distant, and spared Bahamut's direction attention. You're probably guessing by now that my manifestation of the Echo excels at understanding others. I learn best with other people, when I have a tutor."

"It's as if you unknowingly leech their experience," Fordola concluded. "Copying their mastery and making it your own. I can't think of any other reason you could train multiple talents so quickly."

"The effect is even stronger with soul crystals," Sarika explained. "It's like...a repository of knowledge and expertise. The skill of dozens of masters over centuries, even millennia, condensed into physical form. They're an invaluable resource, especially to me."

"But I've also learned that the Echo can be practiced," Sarika smiled. "New talents can be uncovered. For example, while every soul I've ever met who possessed the Echo has the ability to understand another's memories, it's also possible to transmit one's own thoughts."

"Transmit one's thoughts?" Fordola scoffed. "The scientists mentioned an idea like that. Telepathy, I think they called it. Like the magical version of a bloody linkpearl...but they didn't seem to put much stock in it."

"Not exactly like a linkpearl," Sarika frowned. "That was a poor choice of words, my apologies. It's more...instinctual than that. Feelings and memories rather than clear words or messages. Not unlike an Echo vision, actually. In fact...why not test it?"

"Test?" Fordola frowned. "What are you on about?"

"Close your eyes," Sarika suggested. "Try to focus on my presence."

"This is a fool's errand," Fordola grumbled, rolling her eyes but acquiescing.

"Still your mind," Sarika said. "Quiet your thoughts. and ignore the buzzing of the other beings around you. Focus on my mind. Find the metaphorical string waiting for you...and give it a tug."

Frowning, Fordola shut her eyes harder, biting her lip in concentration. Was it working? She felt stupid. This wasn't all just the Warrior of Light's version of a prank, was it? There was no way she could just...

Oh.

It was right there - Sarika's memory. Fordola could feel it, sense it being offered before her. Thought it felt hazy, as if covered by fog, Fordola reached out and grasped the memory...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to include a little nod of justification to how our characters can become masters of a bazillion different professions. In the trailer for Shadowbringers, we can see the bursts of light that accompany someone changing classes, which I thought was pretty fun.
> 
> The Echo is at once a very interesting, very versatile (and pretty OP) ability while also being a bit of a plot device. It's kind of like the Force in Star Wars in that you can get REALLY deep and philosophical about it, or it can just be a simple 'mysterious power'. I included the idea of people having varying strengths with the Echo, with many not even being aware that they have it. Didn't want to delve too deeply into it, however, since the game has only hinted at its true nature so far, and I expect it will be touched on in Shadowbringers.


	26. Year 1 of the Seventh Umbral Era

**Year 1 of the Seventh Umbral Era**

A thundering shudder shook the walls of her home, causing the wood to creak as dust was scattered from the ceiling. Sarika shot awake - wait, no. She wasn't Sarika, she was Fordola.

Well, this was certainly different. This was the clearest, most immersive memory she had ever experienced. Previous ones had been flashes of images, floods of emotion pouring into her, but this...it was like she was really there, living it for herself. Fordola found herself unable to look around, speak, or interact with the vision in any way. Like a cloud mallow upon the wind, her only option was to drift with the current and see where it took her.

"What in the seven hells was that?" Sarika mumbled, wearily rising out of bed, eyes widening as she saw her parents reach for their weapons.

"What's going on?" she asked her parents. "Are we in danger?"

"We don't know," Sechen admitted. "Stay here. Your father and I are going to look outside."

Sarika bit her lip, but knew better than to argue when her mother was serious. Her parents exited the house, weapons at the ready as they scanned the horizon. Grabbing her own conjurer's staff, Sarika quickly threw her clothes on, rushing over to the window for a look outside. The world was bathed in a deep red hue, bright despite the sun's absence. And when Sarika looked up, she saw...

The sky was burning.

Dalamud was cracking, breaking into pieces, and emerging from the shell of the lesser moon was the elder primal, Bahamut. Infuriated with insensate hatred after thousands of years of imprisonment at the hands of Allag, he loosed a roar of hellfire and damnation, wings the size of mountains unfurling as he freed himself from the remnants of his prison. Sarika saw the wildfire erupting from his mouth long before she heard it. The shockwave rippled through the treetops of the Black Shroud, scattering leaves and branches, sending flocks of cloudkin fleeing into the skies. Bahamut flew at unfathomable speed, launching pyroclastic fireballs and molten fragments of the lesser moon in every direction. All of Eorzea suffered and burned in agony at the wyrm's wrath.

Sarika collapsed to the floor, clutching her head and covering her ears in a desperate attempt to silence the intangible screams. Sensitive to the feelings of others as she was, she heard the elementals writhing in excruciating pain, screaming along with them as the forest burned. Her parents rushed back inside when they heard their daughter's cries of despair, but were unable to console her. Dropping to their knees, Hisame and Sechen joined with countless others in prayer, begging the gods of Eorzea for salvation.

Fordola knew of the Calamity, of course, but to see it for herself...

It was unfathomable. It was beyond what even the most vivid descriptions any Garlean would dare to speak or write. The rage and agony of Bahamut was shared upon the world beneath him. Death was all around, despair and helpless terror in the hearts of all those forced to partake in the terrible spectacle. It felt as if the end of the world was upon them.

Bahamut eventually returned to the still-falling remnants of Dalamud and let out a great breath of flame, apparently doing battle with some unfathomably skilled mage who conjured an enormous shield of blue light, absorbing Bahamut's attack. There were more explosions, kicking up huge storms of dust and smoke, and the battle was concealed to her, only visible through explosions of color and booming shockwaves traveling overhead. After one final, intense flare of color, the explosions stopped, and Bahamut was no more.

* * *

Fordola awoke back into the present, doubled over and gasping for breath, just as the younger Sarika had been in her memory.

"Awful, wasn't it?" Sarika smiled sadly, watching Fordola catch her breath and slowly regain her composure.

"T-that...that was horrific!" Fordola managed, clutching a hand against her throat. "Gods, not in my worst nightmares could I have imagined such a thing..."

"Though Louisoix's intervention spared the realm from total annihilation," Sarika nodded, "the land itself was scarred forever. Spiraling masses of corrupted crystals formed as a result of a twisting of the realm's aether. Mor Dhona suffered especially so. To this day, the final explosion from Louisoix's sacrifice remains in crystallised form, a massive, crackling dome to mark the spot where the world nearly ended."

"How did you move on?" Fordola asked. "How can you start again, in the face of...that?"

"One timid step at a time," Sarika shrugged. "The first few days were one emergency after the other. Extinguishing the fires, obviously. Thousands upon thousands of animals died, crops burned...our sources of food and water were put into jeopardy. That became our first priority. Once the Alliance soldiers - what was left of them - made their way home, about then was when we started to realize the true damage we were facing. The elementals were incapacitated by the damage - struck deaf, mute, and weak. They were too feeble to enforce their pact any longer. All those little elemental sprites you see nowadays, scattered about every corner of the world? Those exist because of the Calamity, you know. Once part of a greater whole, scattered into a trillion fragments."

"The elemental's law was harsh," Sarika continued, "but it unified the people of the Twelveswood. Not exactly a common enemy, but...a judge, perhaps? Once people realized that was no longer in play...public order came into question. It's awful, how fast people will turn on each other, but when you thrust them into an apocalyptic environment like that...well, you saw. People were starving. Desperate. Terrified beyond their wit's end. To respond to this, the Elder Seedseer enacted martial law, and put two years of mandatory conscription into effect for certain age groups. Obviously, my adventuring plans were put to a grinding stop."

"So, you were conscripted?" Fordola asked. "Were you forced to fight your own people?"

"Mercifully not," Sarika explained. "I wasn't a soldier, per se. See, even before I had the Blessing of Light, I've always had fairly exceptional capacity for aether. Some days, I was a courier, teleporting all around the Shroud to deliver important messages in person, since the aetheric interference prevented the use of linkpearls. I had ample opportunities to practice conjury. Some days I was a medic, treating the wounded, and sometimes I was a firefighter. Those two years...gods, they went by in a blur. Every day was one long chain of solving life-or-death problems, until finally, _finally,_ things started to stabilize. Food was growing again, the water was clean, people weren't paranoid that their neighbor would break in and steal everything that wasn't nailed down."

"That's when I re-applied to become an adventurer," Sarika nodded. "For a while, my work didn't really change. Communication and travel between the city-states was pretty heavily impeded for a while. Many of the roads and bridges were damaged, Limsa's fleet was decimated, air travel was reserved for only the most urgent situations. The aether in the air started to clear after a while, and linkpearls started functioning again. And about then is when the Ixal started their incursion. They had always had a presence in the northern reaches of the shroud, raiding and foraging, but it was small-scale, until it suddenly wasn't. Looking back, it's easy to see why. Xelphatol and Coerthas had been transforming into freezing wastelands, and they were surely running out of supplies too."

"And that's when you gained your first real combat experience," Fordola nodded.

"Aye," Sarika acknowledged. "The Wood Wailers didn't have the manpower to keep public order and defend against every Ixal raid at the same time. Adventurers like me started getting contracted left and right to lend our aid to the cause. I was in Proudmill, escorting a supply caravan towards Gridania proper, when an Ixali dirigible sounded its warhorn overhead. It dropped ropes and some dozen raiders slid down, pulling out their weapons and charging at us. We were bettered armed and armored, and thankfully, I was the only one who was completely green. Their attack...was not coordinated. We beat them back with relative ease. But, one of our team got hit with an arrow. I dragged him back, crouching down behind a tree stump, as I started to heal him, when all of a sudden I heard this flurry of footsteps rushing towards me, crunching on the leaves."

"I whirled around and saw an Ixal charging at me, lance drawn and ready to skewer me," Sarika frowned. "Understanding others...can be a burden, sometimes. It's like...I felt his desperation. Their people were going to die if they didn't get our supplies. But...they were the ones who chose to fight. I was ready for that moment. I dodged to the side, throwing a gust of wind at him to knock him off balance. He stumbled, and fell to the ground. Then I brought up a chunk of stone from the earth, and...brought it down on his head. He didn't move after that. It...was the first time I had killed someone. A lot of us at the time didn't consider the Ixal to be 'people'. Just ravenous, malevolent animals. I thought about that day for a long, long time to come."

"Even if you didn't hesitate, the first kill is never easy," Fordola nodded. "Only a bloodthirsty fiend can truly claim to kill with ease, with no regrets or doubts whatsoever. Your mother's words prepared you well, I think."

"And they have been a creed I have done my utmost to keep ever since," Sarika nodded. "To kill only if doing so will bring more good into the world. I've been called naive for that belief. Childish, even. After all, 'good' is subjective, and there's hardly a subjective scale to measure one's value to the world. In the end, all we can really do is stick with our conviction, and fight for what we believe to be right."

"Aye," Fordola sighed. "When you break the matter down to its core, it really does seem to be that simple."

"Long story short," Sarika resumed, clearing her throat, "I fought and killed a lot more Ixal over the next three years of the Seventh Umbral Era. I ventured out a bit to other areas of Eorzea, but mostly wandered around Gridania, doing what I could, until eventually, I stumbled across a plot of the Ixal. They wanted to defile the Guardian Tree, a sacred grove at the center of the Twelveswood, where the elementals are strongest. It's very important to Gridania, for our Padjals and Hearers to be able to commune with the elementals, to disclose our intent and quell their wrath. To lose it would be devastating. As you might have guessed, the Ascians were misleading the Ixal, who were becoming increasingly fanatic to their goddess, Garuda, who urged hatred and violence towards all other races."

"Alerting the Twin Adder to the plot, I fought alongside them and stopped the Ixal," Sarika nodded. "And in the aftermath of the battle, I found a pure, white crystal, lying suspiciously alone on the ground. I picked it up...and received a vision from the Mothercrystal. That's when she chose me. That's when I received her Blessing of Light."

"In recognition of you stopping the Ixal plot?" Fordola asked.

"I'm not completely sure, to be honest," Sarika admitted. "But it's not something she would have handed out to just anyone that stumbled across that crystal. Remember, if the Echo comes from the Mothercrystal, then her power to understand another would dwarf all others. I imagine she saw through me to my very soul, completely and utterly exposing my wants, desires, and convictions - and she found me worthy, I suppose. Some have called it destiny, or fate, but I think that's a load of chocobo shite. I was in the right place at the right time, that's all."

"Having just done a suitable good deed to prove your worth," Fordola pointed out. "And having the right personality and motivations to impress her. That's quite the cosmic coincidence."

"If you're suggesting that Hydaelyn somehow manipulated the events of the world to cause me to develop those traits and end up at that place at that time, then I would point out that she has grown so weak that she cannot even speak for herself at this point," Sarika huffed. "I haven't heard a peep from her in two years."

"Not that I can claim to know, but two years might be naught to such a being," Fordola shrugged. "But have you considered the possibility that the Ascians manipulated _you_ into picking up that crystal?"

"What?" Sarika blinked. "That's...a terrifying thought, Fordola, but even by Ascian logic, that's inconceivable. For all I know of their leader, he despises me for threatening his precious balance of darkness. My existence is anathema to him. I have seen the Ascians work against each other, but even so, to go as far as to create a champion of their sworn enemy? I can't even fathom the twisted logic at work there."

"T'was merely a thought that crossed my mind," Fordola shrugged. "You know far more of the Ascians than I."

The two were quiet for a long time after that, the only sounds in the gaol being that of Sarika's boots clicking against the cobblestones as she adjusted her posture, and the clinking of Fordola's chains as she took a long drink of water.

"I just realized something," Fordola declared. "You clearly had inklings of your parent's past, when you shared their nightmares with your Echo. But you still haven't told me how you learned the truth, and I can't imagine they would have told you."

"You're a sharp listener, Fordola," Sarika grinned. "You're correct. To this day, they've never directly told me. In my experience, the Echo doesn't often reveal memories people are desperate to keep hidden. And I likely never would have learned the truth, had my struggles in Doma not brought me to the Steppe. So if you'll suffer my moralizing a bit more, the tale isn't quite over."

"I've listened to you for this long," Fordola shrugged. "I'll hear it to the end."

"This was but a few weeks ago," Sarika explained. "Seeing as the current conflict with the Empire has reached a _de-facto_ ceasefire, I took the chance to travel to the Azim Steppe on my own. You see, my last name is Malaguld, but that's a name for a Xaela tribe - one that I had never known in my entire life. I wanted to seek them out, to meet with the people from whom I had inherited my name..."


	27. Year 3 of the Seventh Astral Era - Part 2

**Year 3 of the Seventh Astral Era**

Great wings beat the air as Sarika's yol carried her forward, high above the Steppe. She was clad in her usual red mage's attire, but had to remove her hat to prevent it from blowing off. After teleporting to Reunion's aetheryte, she inquired with locals about the location of the Malaguld, which she learned was to the northwest, close to the foot of the mountains. Her yol made the travel swift, and she reached her destination in only a few hours. She had an excellent view of the Malaguld camp beneath her, as she brought her mount down to land.

Hundreds of ger were arranged in a large circle around the center of the camp, vividly colored and varied of size. It was so close to how she pictured it - although the reality was a fair bit larger in scale. Perhaps the clan had grown over the years. Sliding off her yol and landing nimbly upon the ground, she gave her mount an affection stroke of the head, ruffling his feathers before sending him off back into the air. Her yol took off to northern skies, in search of prey to fill his belly. Several Malaguld sentries were approaching her with a mix of awe and caution, weapons sheathed but kept close by. Producing her chapeau again, Sarika donned her hat and tipped it towards them.

"Fair afternoon to you," she smiled.

"Who are you?" one of the guards asked. "Our tribe has but one yol rider, and your manner of dress is unlike any I have ever seen."

"That's the bloody khagan, you fool," another guard hissed, elbowing her companion in the side. "Or were you thinking it was some _other_ Raen woman from afar atop that yol?"

"My name is Sarika," Sarika nodded. "Is Gozan still khan here? I would have words with your leaders."

"Khan Gozan has been elected every year for nearly fifty now, aye," the female sentry nodded. "Please, follow me."

* * *

Sitting cross legged upon the floor, Sarika sat before three of the Malaguld's five leaders who had arranged themselves in a half-circle before her. It was so startlingly similar to her vision of her grandfather's past. Gozan, Tsuji, and Ogele were all present, looking much the same, if more wrinkled and grey of hair. Chambui, her grandmother, and Qara, the diplomat, were both absent, however.

"Well, well," Khan Gozan chuckled, stroking the stubble on his chin. "The khagan of the Steppe is a foreigner, and yet a daughter of our very own tribe all the same? T'is a tale I would not have ever imagined."

"It certainly explains how you know so much of our ways and our people, for someone meeting us for the first time," Tsuji nodded, just as stern and serious looking as Sarika remembered.

"I must ask," Sarika began. "Are Qara and Chambui no longer here? And what of Koretomo, my grandfather?"

"Ah," Gozan clicked his tongue, his mood visibly dropping. "It seems I must be the bearer of bad news. Unfortunately, Qara and Chambui are no longer with us, having succumbed to age and illness, respectively. Those who filled their roles are absent and unavailable for this meeting. Your grandfather remains, however, and I am sure he would be overcome with joy to meet you."

"I see," Sarika nodded, forcing herself to smile. She expected that was a possibility, but it hurt to hear it confirmed. "Before I go to meet him, there are two other issues I would speak of. You see, all my life, I have known myself as Sarika Malaguld. However, it was not until I learned more of the Steppe that I realized my last name was not a family name, but one of a clan. Seeing as I am not a part of your tribe, I find myself wondering if I deserve to have that name. I would hear your thoughts on the matter."

"Hmm," Gozan hummed. "This is a novel situation for us, as well. Surely, children of exiles have visited the Steppe before, but...what is it that you would ask of me, Sarika? Do you wish to join our clan?"

"Not as such," Sarika shook her head, smiling sadly. "I have many responsibilities in lands far from here. I cannot resign myself to life upon the Steppe as a herder or forager."

"Then don't," Ogele shrugged. "Before she passed, Qara was away from the clan for long periods of time, often for several weeks or even months. One does not need to reside with the clan to be a part of it."

"Agreed," Tsuji nodded. "She has conquered Bardam's Mettle, and the Nadaam beyond that. Even I have heard tales of the god-slayer. There is no doubting her strength."

"Very well then!" Gozan chuckled. "It seems we have an agreement, and I believe we can forgo the usual trials. If you wish to consider yourself part of the Malaguld, Sarika, then we would gladly welcome you."

"I am glad for it," Sarika smiled, rising to her feet and shaking Gozan's hand. "I cannot promise to visit often, but I shall make an effort. From near or afar, I shall give it my all to protect the people of the Steppe - on that, you have my word."

"A bold promise," Tsuji smirked. "Spoken with so much conviction, that I almost believe you. What was the other matter you wished to discuss?"

"Ah," Sarika nodded. "I would hear of the reason for my parents' exile."

The faces of everyone present darkened, thoughts cast back to distant memories.

"I am aware it is an unpleasant memory," Sarika nodded. "But they never told me exactly what happened. I know it involves fire, and anger...some sort of tragedy occurred, and they were responsible. No?"

"You have an uncanny intuition," Gozan nodded. "Aye, you're not wrong. We could tell you, but...perhaps it would be better for you to hear the tale from your grandfather."

"Very well," Sarika said. "Please, show me to him."

* * *

Koretomo was sitting down cross-legged in his ger, scattered documents spread across the pelt that covered the floor.

"Two doses had little effect," he muttered, focusing intently on the research notes. "Hmm, and Izu suspects that it may not be bacterial in nature, but parasitic? Possibly, possibly..."

A nearby woman cleared her throat loudly, drawing his attention.

"Hrm?" Koretomo muttered without looking. "What is it? I'm busy."

"Too busy to meet your own granddaughter?" the woman's voice asked.

"Granddaughter?" Koretomo scoffed, finally turning his attention to his insistent visitor. "What are you-"

Finally noticing her, Koretomo took in the young woman's appearance - her hair, crimson like his late wife and his exiled son. Her eyes, blue surrounded by a limbal ring of purple, just like his own. Though her dress was unfamiliar to him, the young woman's posture and patient smile spoke of confidence and strength.

"Sarika Malaguld," she introduced, offering a half-bow. "Daughter to Hisame and Sechen."

"Hisame?" the old man rubbed his eyes, focusing more sharply on the woman. "Sechen? Then...you really are...?"

"I am," she smiled. "And though my parents told me little of their own past, they shared with me many stories of the Steppe. You are Koretomo, my grandfather, and Chambui my grandmother, though I have only just learned of her passing."

Koretomo rose to his feet, shuffling over to Sarika and gingerly placing his hands upon her shoulders, looking more closely at her face.

"Gods," he muttered. "You look just like her..."

"I wish I could have met her," Sarika said softly. "She sounded like such an incredible woman."

A drop of wetness fell from Koretomo's eyes, streaking down his cheek.

"Sarika," Koretomo sniffed, embracing her and hugging her tightly. "My granddaughter...I have a granddaughter!"

The two hugged for a while, crying and laughing before pulling apart. Sarika helped her grandfather sit back down and started to boil some water, preparing some tea for the both of them.

"Tell me, what fate befell my son?" Koretomo asked. "And Sechen...what became of them? Since the day they left, more than twenty years ago, I have heard naught of them."

"They are hale and healthy," Sarika smiled. "They traveled to Eorzea, far across the ocean. I was born in a forested nation called Gridania, and consider it my home."

"All the way to Eorzea," Koretomo chuckled. "By the kami, I can scarcely imagine such a voyage!"

"It is rather horrifically long," Sarika giggled. "But, for as much as I know of you, grandfather, my parents revealed very little of their own pasts. Part of the reason I sought out the Malaguld was to meet my ancestors...and part of it was because I craved the truth of their exile."

"T'is a bitter tale," Koretomo frowned. "You may regret hearing it. I understand full well why they would wish to hide the truth from you, since you may well revile them for it."

"I already have a general idea," Sarika sighed. "They did something awful. Something they can't take back. But...please, grandfather. Tell me what really happened."

"Very well," Koretomo sighed, taking a long sip of tea. "It began the night that they returned from their triumph at Bardam's Mettle..."

Sarika opened her mind, prepared to receive the Echo. She shut her eyes as an overwhelming torrent of senses flooded into her, and let herself be carried away by her grandfather's tale...

* * *

"I see," Sarika sighed. "Though it was not their intention, they were responsible for the deaths of innocent children."

"My son did not consider the reality of his actions," Koretomo nodded. "He let his anger and hatred guide him, and that tragedy was the result."

"And now all the pieces fit together," Sarika said, pulling her legs close to her chest. "Father has nightmares to this day about those events. I have to say, I'm...conflicted. It was a horrific act, but it was in response to an unexpected attack. At the time, they truly thought they were doing the right thing, weren't they?"

"Many others shared their ideas," Koretomo nodded. "That a preemptive attack on the Adarkim was necessary, to show them that we would not suffer such aggression. I fear that only the intervention of the khagan prevented further violence."

"I see," Sarika nodded, standing up and brushing herself off. "This...I have a lot to think about. Thank you for telling me the truth, grandfather."

"You are leaving already?" Koretomo frowned.

"Not just yet," Sarika shrugged. "I'd like to look around the camp, talk to people for a while. Should I wish to return, it's only a teleport and a short flight away - assuming the clan hasn't migrated again."

"Very well," Koretomo sighed. "Oh, but please come see me again before you leave. I...I want to write a letter. The next time you see my son, please, give it to him."

"I will," Sarika nodded. "Oh, but before I go...has the Malaguld clan gotten considerably larger, or is that just my perception as an outsider?"

"It has, actually," Koretomo nodded. "There was a small tribe, the Hotgo, that was attacked and scattered by the Dotharl, some six, seven years ago? Many of the remnants of their tribe joined with ours. Another tribe, the Kahkol, suffered a similar fate about three years ago. The Kahkol are a tribe of orphans and survivors, scattered remnants from other tribes bound together. They were scattered by the Buduga, most of their men forced to join, with the remainder suffering through starvation and outbreak of disease. Many of their clan joined us as well - and unfortunately, they brought their disease with them. That was how I lost your grandmother."

"I'm sorry," Sarika frowned. "That's awful. Disease really seems intent on taking as much as it can from you, grandfather."

"Though I could not cure her, I eased her suffering as much as I was able," Koretomo nodded solemnly. "Eradicating disease is not a feat that can be accomplished in a single lifetime. As I reach my silver years on this star, t'is my charge to distribute the results of my research to as many people as are willing to listen, and hope that others will carry on my work."

"The conjurer's guild in Gridania has many connections to medical institutions," Sarika suggested. "I could distribute your work there, perhaps even get you some long-distance linkpearls so you could communicate with your friends back in the valley."

"Truly?" Koretomo smiled as his granddaughter helped him to his feet, embracing her once more. "That would be tremendously helpful. Thank you, my dear."

Bidding her grandfather farewell, Sarika went to examine the camp for herself, finding all sorts of things that she vaguely remembered from Echo visions. The members of the tribe were fascinated by her, and a group of children followed her wherever she went, tugging at her sleeve and asking her for all sorts of stories. Sarika spoke to different people for hours, until eventually, she came upon an old Xaela woman with deep blue hair, quietly attending to a basket of laundry by herself. It seemed to be a prodigious amount for one old woman to be doing by herself.

"Excuse me," Sarika introduced, "do you need any help with that?"

"Need?" the woman repeated. "No, but if you have nothing better to do than speak to this old woman, I would welcome the aid."

Nodding and offering a warm smile, Sarika moved over to the woman's laundry basket and took out a few damp articles, pinning them to a rope so that the sun would start to dry them out.

"You are from the Hotgo tribe, are you not?" Sarika asked after a while.

"I was," the woman sighed. "But it no longer exists. I am of the Malaguld, now."

"Did you happen to know a young woman called Mide?" Sarika asked. "A bit shorter than me, blue hair, horns like fins?"

"Mide?" the woman questioned. "I'm afraid not. Why do you ask? Someone you knew?"

"Aye," Sarika nodded. "Though she is no longer with us. I thought...I wondered if I could find any kin of hers, perhaps. This is...I understand if this is too difficult to talk about, but what exactly happened to the Hotgo? Why did the Dotharl attack you so viciously?"

"Why indeed," the woman sighed. "I've often thought about that myself."

Sarika felt a strong, sudden tug upon her mind. Her memory was linking together with the woman's, and this was a powerful, strong memory that would not be denied. Gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes, Sarika's hand flew to her forehead as the Echo immersed her into the past...

Opening her eyes, Sarika found herself in a panic. Blue-skinned Xaela were charging through an encampment not unlike the Malaguld's, if it were one utterly ravaged by war. Ger were collapsed, pierced with dozens of arrows. Dotharl warriors clashed against the Hotgo's desperate defenders, steel and spell sparking together in a brutal conflict. However, it seemed that this battle was already at its end. Dozens of Hotgo defenders lie dead upon the ground, and the battle became a slaughter as the Dotharl started to loot the camp. They seemed to be in a trance-like fury, slaying any who dared enter their field of vision. None were spared their wrath - not even defenseless women and children, to the agony of Sarika's mental host.

She saw a woman clutching a bundle of cloth close to her chest, cut down by the axe of a Dotharl rider. Laughing in triumph, he let out a whooping way cry that the rest of his clan answered.

Choking back her tears, the woman covered her own mouth as she pretended to lie dead among the corpses of her friends. Telu, the younger woman's name was. Her daughter, murdered by these bloodthirsty invaders.

"Why?" the woman thought. "Why? Why..? Why?!"

Sarika awoke from the memory with a gasp, doubling over and clutching a hand to her chest. Her heart was racing, and she felt nauseous, her stomach twisting into knots in the face of such horrific slaughter.

"Hey now!" the woman cried, hurrying over to Sarika's side and rubbing her back. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"W-why?" Sarika choked, rubbing a gloved hand at her eyes. "Why would they...why did they have to do that?"

Anger boiled within her. Clenching her fists and gritting her teeth together, Sarika struggled to retain control of herself.

Nothing could justify what she had seen. It was one thing to attack a neighboring tribe, to conquer them, to absorb their people and resources for your own. But that...it was such indiscriminate, wanton killing. A massacre! Unforgivable, inexcusable!

She wanted to fly right to the Dotharl camp. She needed answers. An explanation. But...

Not now. Not like this. If she went with fury in her heart, would that not be the same mistake her parents had made?

Forcing the air out through her clenched teeth, Sarika forced herself to straighten her posture, taking a long breath in through her nose. Her heart rate slowed, and the nausea started to recede.

"I'm fine, thank you," Sarika declared, shaking her head.

"You seemed to be in great pain for a moment," the old woman frowned. "If there's aught I can do to help, please let me know."

"You are too kind," Sarika smiled. "But really, I will be fine. I just need some water, I think."

Taking a long swig of cool water from her canteen, Sarika wiped her forehead, removing a few drops of sweat. Once she finished assisting the old woman with her chores, she returned to her grandfather and bid him farewell, taking his letter into her safekeeping. She had accomplished what she had first set out to do, but she couldn't leave the Steppe just yet. There was something else she had to do.

Clearing her mind, Sarika shut her eyes and focused on the subtle pull of a distant aetheryte, teleporting to the Dawn Throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not directly related to this chapter, but here's the 51 scales art for the Hotgo: https://i.imgur.com/XJrnhgO.png
> 
> It took me a moment to realize that was Mide looking over the ruins of Sharlayan. Man, Alexander was a fun story. I don't usually like time travel as a mechanic in stories - it has to be done really well. One of my favorite stories ever is Steins;Gate, which is pretty much the perfect example of good time travel. If you don't mind the slow start (I didn't), it's a fantastic anime.


	28. Year 3 of the Seventh Astral Era - Part 3

A massive, brooding man observed Sarika as she approached, entering through the huge doors of the Dawn Throne. Though the man that sat upon the elevated chair was not the khagan, there was no denying the power and respect he commanded over the Steppe and its people.

"Most Radiant Brother Magnai," Sarika greeted. "My thanks for agreeing to speak with me on such short notice."

"A visit from the khagan cannot be refused," Magnai said gruffly. "Have you need of the strength of the sun again? Are there more men in steel for us to crush underfoot?"

"Not yet," Sarika nodded. "Our war strategy remains unchanged. This is a...personal matter."

Sharing a look with his Buduga allies and personal bodyguards, Magnai silently dismissed them from the room. Once they left, he rose out of his throne and descended to the same level as his guest, standing before her.

"Speak, then," he commanded.

"The Hotgo tribe," Sarika nodded. "Are you aware of them?"

"Hotgo," Magnai repeated, closing his eyes in thought. "A smaller tribe from the northern reaches. Scattered by the Dotharl some seven years ago. Many of their maidens had azure hair. What of them?"

"Suppose your tribe swapped places with the Dotharl," Sarika suggested. "You are leading your tribe to war against them. What do you hope to gain from it?"

"Their people," Magnai nodded. "To convince them of the sun's glory and warmth. To make them submit to its wisdom and bask in its protection. Their people, their flocks, their gers. All would become protectorates of the Oronir."

"And what if they didn't want your protection?" Sarika prompted. "What if they resisted your offer?"

"Then we would fight," Magnai shrugged. "And we would win, for our cause is the greater."

"Let's imagine your warriors defeated theirs, then," Sarika nodded. "The rest of the clan are defenseless to you. What then? Looting and pillaging?"

"Such actions are those of Dotharl beasts," Magnai snarled. "Do not dare assume the Oronir would do such pointless things. What glory is there to be had in the slaughter of the defenseless? The Oronir are as a father to the lesser tribes, as Azim is to us - guiding them, correcting them on their path. Sometimes a child must be punished harshly, to correct their selfish behavior. Perhaps that punishment may leave a scar, but to leave them broken and ruined? Such a thing benefits no one. You yourself are a warrior of great renown. Surely you have had students and apprentices clamoring for your attention - I am sure you understand this concept."

"Of course," Sarika nodded. "I thank you for sharing your wisdom with me, Magnai."

"Will that be all?" Magnai asked. "Your anger is plain, khagan. If you seek to punish the Dotharl for their crimes, the sun would assist you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sarika smiled, bowing politely. "Farewell for now."

"Feh," Magnai scoffed, returning to his seat. "A khagan does not bow to their subjects. Remember that, when you go to the Dotharl dogs."

* * *

"The Hotgo?" Cirina repeated, looking to her khatun for guidance. "Yes, we know of them. Many of them joined with the Malaguld after the attack."

"The elder gods, too, were perturbed by the events of that day," Temulun nodded, perched upon her throne of pelts and animal skulls. "And they spoke of your coming today as well, khagan. You seek our wisdom, to quell the burning fury in your heart."

Frowning, Sarika bit her lip. She didn't like to think about the Mol's divination and utter reliance upon these invisible gods. As she well knew, gods were a troublesome thing that could easily spiral out of control. The Mol's gods seemed different from primals, however, and there was no denying their disturbingly accurate predictions.

"Aye," Sarika nodded. "I too, had a vision. The memories of a survivor of the Dotharl's attack. It was...barbaric. Merciless. None were spared. Only those who were away at the time, fled in advance, or feigned death managed to escape the slaughter."

"I have heard of such things," Cirina frowned. "And I am no stranger to death, having borne witness to great violence at the Nadaam. But what you describe sounds terrible beyond imagination..."

"I'm furious," Sarika admitted, starting to pace back and forth. "I hate what I saw. I hate how cheerful and _proud_ the Dotharl warriors were."

"You are well aware of the Dotharl's views on death," Temulun nodded calmly. "In their eyes, they have done nothing wrong. By freeing them from their mortal shells, they merely brought them into the great cycle of rebirth."

"When Gosetsu and I first visited the Dotharl, something he said gave offense to them," Sarika nodded, folding her hands behind her back. "They demanded he respect their customs, and he did. And for them to slaughter other tribes, free of guilt according to their own values? They don't get to have it both ways, just because they're stronger!"

"Is that not what strength is?" Temulun countered. "The ability to enforce one's will upon the world, and those within it. You yourself are a warrior of unparalleled strength. How many have you forced into submission? How many hundreds and thousands of lives have you snuffed out, khagan?"

"It's not the same!" Sarika burst, stamping her foot. "I don't revel in slaughter!"

"U-um," Cirina stammered. "Perhaps we should all take a moment to compose ourselves? I can go fetch some refreshments, perhaps?"

"Suppose you go to the Dotharl," Temulun nodded. "You demand they cease such attacks - and they will put you to the proof. Even should you prevail, what then? Violence exists at the heart of every Xaela. Any forced peace you create would expire upon a prolonged absence - or your death."

"Even if violence is at the center of your hearts, it doesn't have to rule you," Sarika urged. "The Malaguld are proof of that. As is Reunion, and even the Nadaam! Cooperation and understanding are still possible!"

"Then use your gift," Temulun smiled knowingly. "Meet their leader in battle, as you have planned to since you walked in here. Prove you understand her, and force her to understand why such slaughter fills you with rage. Mayhap she will listen, and mayhap not. All you can do is try."

Sarika looked to the floor, arms upon her hips.

"Pray forgive my outburst, khatun," she said softly. "I got carried away."

"I would not have provoked you if I did not hope you would," Temulun chuckled. "A khagan must always be put to the test, after all. I will gladly forgive you, if you can excuse this old woman's insolence."

"Of course," Sarika sighed, looking up with a smile. "I owe you and yours a great deal. It's just...I knew someone, from the Hotgo. A survivor who fled to Eorzea. I didn't know her long, but I considered her a friend. I'll spare you the details, but...well, she very nearly ended the world, but ended up playing an crucial role in saving it, too. And now I know what she fled from...what sorrow, what bitter hate. And it was just so...unnecessary. It could have been avoided. Do we not have a responsibility to prevent such tragedies before they occur? This isn't about just the Steppe. We're all...just people, sharing the same world."

"A noble, pragmatic sentiment," Temulun nodded. "But good deeds often require strength to carry out, and noble intentions alone do not make for a virtuous path. I pray that you will always remember this."

"If I could make a suggestion," Cirina said, clearing her throat. "Um...Sadu hasn't been the khatun of the Dotharl for very long, only a few years, I believe. So I don't think she was their leader at the time of the attack on the Hotgo. Mayhap finding out how she felt about it would be a good place to start?"

"Knowing her, words will only come after our battle," Sarika chuckled. "But that is helpful, Cirina. Thank you."

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The fury was still present, though it no longer seared her insides. Sitting down with Cirina and the old khatun, the three enjoyed a simple meal together, the conversation turning to lighter topics. After she was finished, Sarika bade the two of them farewell and brought her fingers to her mouth, whistling loudly for her yol. Her grasp over the air amplified the sound, casting the noise far into the heavens. After a few minutes, her yol burst through the clouds, landing and walking over to her.

She had to make Sadu understand. In fact, she might be one of the only people who _could_ change Sadu's mind...

Nuzzling her yol, she gave him a scratch behind the ears and mounted up, flying towards the Dotharl camp in the southwest, at the edge of the desert sands...

* * *

"You approach with fire in your eyes, khagan!" Sadu laughed as Sarika approached her. "Like a tiger stalking her prey. I did not think myself privileged enough to earn another battle so soon!"

"Fight me," Sarika said coolly. "Now."

"How well you understand me," Sadu smirked. "You learn quickly, khagan. Come! The field to the north should suit our needs."

Nodding, Sarika followed the khatun in silence, walking alongside her to the north. The excitement and interest of the other members of the Dotharl was obvious - the previous battle between the two women was widely discussed in awed tones.

"You're welcome to bring other warriors," Sarika suggested. "You're going to need them."

"Such confidence!" Sadu laughed. "How brightly you shine, khagan. You are surely improved from your battles since last we met! If you crave not a fair fight, then my warriors will gladly oblige you."

Gesturing to a few of her clan members, three of them got up and followed alongside Sadu - an archer, an axe warrior, and a geomancer.

After a few minutes of walking, the combatants decided they were suitably far from the camp, and took up their battle stances, standing some ten fulms apart from each other.

"How my heart sings in anticipation of this," Sadu cackled, readying her mage's staff. "Oh, how glorious it is to fight you, khagan! Come! Show us your worth once more!"

Unsheathing her rapier from her side, Sarika struck out the thin blade to the side as if slicing the wind. A small purple orb, the other component of her full weapon, began to levitate behind her. Sarika's crimson duelist's outfit flapped gently in the wind as she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Forward!" Sadu commanded, striking out with her staff and ordering her warriors to begin.

Sadu's archer nocked an arrow and loosed it, sending it flying towards Sarika. Nodding, Sarika reached out to the natural elements, observing the flow of the wind, and without opening her eyes, slashed at the air with her blade, slicing the projectile in twain. The enemy geomancer stomped the earth, summoning three sizable rocks which he launched at her in succession. Opening her eyes, Sarika commanded her rapier and orb to fuse together with a satisfying _click-chick._ Spinning the now complete staff around in her hand, she pointed the orb towards the incoming projectiles and released a jolt of unaspected aether towards the first, shattering it into pebbles, before destroying the other with a fireball.

Holding out a hand, she seized control of the last rock flying towards her in mid-air, using overwhelming, brute force to overcome her foe's magical grasp over it. Spinning the rock around, she launched it towards the archer with twice as much force, rocketing it into the woman's side and knocking her off her feet. The archer, groaning in pain, tried to get up but failed. At the same time, the burly man with a massive axe charged right at Sarika, hollering a mighty war cry. He was surely powerful, but Sarika saw through his sluggish movements with supernatural ease. Dashing off to the side, Sarika propelled herself forward with wind, avoiding the sundering impact of the warrior's axe and launching herself towards the geomancer. The man attempted to throw up a wall of stone to impede her way, but Sarika simply stopped short, bouncing off the ground and nimbly vaulting over it, again using her control over the air to perform her acrobatics.

Spinning her staff and tossing it into the air, Sarika landed and pirouetted around, swinging out her leg and slamming it into the man's back with far more strength than her lithe build implied. She knocked the geomancer off his feet, sending him flying and colliding with his own wall. His head slammed into the stone and he fell to the ground, insensate and incapacitated.

"Wonderful, khagan!" Sadu cried, holding back her staff and starting to channel her own attack.

Launching forward a massive, crackling fireball, Sadu laughed as the battle high started to overcome her. The projectile sizzled in the air as it screamed towards Sarika, who plucked her falling staff from the air, twirled it around, and summoned an earthen wall of her own, creating a tall, precise pillar in the path of the fireball. The ball of flame exploded, kicking up a small cloud of dust and debris that Sarika used to mask her movement. Rushing towards the now-recovered archer with her body low to the ground and rapier at the ready, Sarika slashed two more arrows out of the air as the archer started to nervously backpedal, trying desperately to hit the khagan.

The axe warrior, who was chasing after Sarika ever since she first evaded him, rushed towards his ally to assist the archer. With a furious roar, he held his axe high overhead, prepared for the nimble red mage to dodge again. However, Sarika did not dodge to the side, but further _towards_ the archer. Springing off her feet, Sarika grappled the archer from behind, raising her blade to the woman's neck and staring calmly at the warrior as he approached her living shield.

Face contorting in confusion, the warrior planted his feet and slid to a halt, lowering his axe. The instant Sarika spotted that hesitation, she threw forward her hostage, kicking the archer into the warrior and fusing her blade into a staff once more as her two opponents stumbled into each other.

_Click-chick._

Sarika released a blast of lightning from her staff, shocking the both of them. Each collapsed to the ground, twitching uncontrollably.

"Hostages, khagan?" Sadu cried out. "It hardly seems like your style!"

"I thought the Dotharl had no fear for death?" Sarika taunted. "I told you, this wasn't going to be a fair fight!"

Grinning, Sadu stomped her feet and summoned forth several golems from the earth. Four humanoid shapes rose, forming from mud and dirt, and began to shamble towards the red mage.

"In battle do we burn brightest!" Sadu cried, summoning forth four massive slabs of rock with faces on them that arranged themselves in each cardinal direction.

These khun chuulu were graven records of Xaela legends, stories and graves and histories that had gained power of their own, imbued by the Steppe itself. Sarika and Sadu began to duel with spells, flinging projectiles of earth, fire, and ice at each other as Sadu's golems closed the distance. Satisfied that Sarika was suitably distracted, Sadu commanded her khun chuulu to start channeling her most potent spell. High above them, a massive, burning rock was plucked from the outermost reaches of the star, beginning to slowly fall to the earth. The previous time she had attempted to cast Meteor, Sarika had managed to interrupt her. This time, Sadu opted for a slower strategy, where her khun chuulu would be the ones responsible for the casting while she kept her opponent busy with a barrage of magic.

Sadu's golems finally reached their target, and charged with their shoulders, swinging with heavy fists. Nimbly flipping backwards, Sarika again used her control of the air to gain distance from attackers. Behind her, five shimmering blue lights materialized from thin air, forming long swords of pure energy. Striking forward with her rapier, Sarika launched the swords forward, each blade embedding itself into a golem's leg before exploding in a blinding light. Sadu winced and forced herself to look away for a moment as her golems stumbled to the ground, awkwardly crawling towards Sarika as the scattered mud and stone of their legs slowly attempted to reform. All the while, Sadu's meteor inched ever closer to the ground...

"When a Dotharl dies, their spirit rejoins the cycle of rebirth," Sarika declared. "But tell me, Sadu! What would happen if there were no Dotharl left alive?"

Not waiting for an answer, Sarika pointed her staff heavensward, and the earth began to tremble.

"A quake?" Sadu muttered, feeling the vibrations rattling her very bones. "No...this is _her_ doing?"

Gritting her teeth and summoning the earth forward, Sarika tore a colossal chunk of the Steppe free from the ground, leaving a crater. With a shout of herculean effort, Sarika launched the slab of earth into the sky. With a terrible cracking noise, the flying mountain of earth impacted the falling meteor, obliterating both in a spectacular display of falling soil and burning fragments of rock. A rush of wind tore forth from the impact, brushing aside the grass for a malm around as the sound raced along the Steppe.

Sadu's jaw fell agape. In a single display of overwhelming power, her opponent had destroyed her ultimate technique with _brute force._

"How...?" Sadu muttered in disbelief.

Bent over as sweat dripped down her face, Sarika panted, exhausted from her tremendous display. Turning her head to the endless blue sky, Sarika took a deep breath - and let out a shout of anguish. Her scream was impossibly loud, carried forward by magicked gusts of wind that radiated out from her, carrying her fury in every direction. The air _boomed_ and cracked, and the wind smashed into Sadu with the force of a hurricane, knocking her off her feet and sending her tumbling along the grass until she finally rolled to a halt. Sadu groaned and struggled to support herself with her arms, feeling unnaturally weary. It felt like she had just been kicked in the gut, as waves of unfamiliar emotion flooded her senses.

Flashes of feelings and memories that were not her own raced through her mind. Despair, anguish, fury, suffering, and a withering emptiness - she felt everything at once. The emotional hurt was so intense that it made her physically ache, curling into a ball and grimacing as a fierce ringing in her ears drowned out her sense of sound. After a short while that seemed like an eternity, a soothing warmth flooded through her. Sadu opened her eyes to see Sarika crouching over her, hand extended as she poured healing energy into Sadu's body, repairing her damaged eardrums.

"What," Sadu coughed, taking Sarika's offered hand and rising to her feet, "what the hells was that?"

"Something I needed you to understand," Sarika frowned. "That pain you felt? It was the memory of the Hotgo. Do you remember them?"

"Who?" Sadu blinked, shaking her head as her own senses slowly came back to her. "Oh, them. I was not khatun at the time, and was charged with seeing to the defense of our own camp while the war party was away. That...that was what they felt?"

"I can see memories, Sadu," Sarika nodded. "Feelings and thoughts, and I can share them too. I saw the slaughter as if I was there myself. I saw how defenseless people were cut down, and how the Dotharl took joy in it.

"And that is where the cold fury in your eyes stemmed from?" Sadu questioned. "Why? They were not your people."

"They were innocent," Sarika countered. "They didn't deserve the atrocity that the Dotharl brought upon them. I knew a survivor of that attack, Sadu. Her name was Mide. And in her despair after the loss of her home and family, she summoned an eikon of power and nature unlike any other. Alexander...a towering hulk of metal that could have drained the entire world of aether to power itself. In the end, she realized her mistake, and helped me defeat Alexander...at the cost of her own life."

"Why are you telling me this?" Sadju frowned. "I had no part in that."

"I'm aware," Sarika nodded. "But tell me, Sadu...why did the entire clan have to die? Elders and children, the sick and the weak...your people spared no one. Why?"

"Why?" Sadu repeated. "T'would be far crueler to leave them, wouldn't it? The Dotharl are the Dotharl alone. We take no slaves and have no need of subordinate tribes. To leave them would be leaving future enemies. T'is far kinder to send them to their kin, to rejoin the cycle. From both you and the samurai from before, it would seem that our understanding of death is fundamentally different. What you consider a permanent end is no more than a temporary transition."

"That's not for you to decide," Sarika said, shaking her head. "For your own people? Certainly. But the Hotgo did not share your beliefs. Had it been your people being attacked, they would have faced death without fear. But the Hotgo believed they were truly ending forever. Having different ideals about death does not justify slaughter and massacre."

"What would would you have me do, khagan?" Sadu asked. "Hunt down the body of each soul who reincarnated, and apologize for an act I did not commit?"

"I would have you ensure that such wanton slaughter never happens again," Sarika nodded. "I asked you before, what would happen if all living Dotharl died? What would happen to the souls awaiting a new body?"

"The cycle would end," Sadu shrugged. "And we would return to Nhaama's embrace. Such is fated to happen eventually, whether we will it or no."

"I don't want to threaten you, Sadu," Sarika said. "I want to work alongside you, and make life in the Steppe better for every tribe. But as long as I still draw breath, I will fight to ensure a massacre like that never happens again. _Never,_ understand?"

"Is that an order from the khagan?" Sadu smiled.

"No," Sarika said, shaking her head. "That's a promise from me. Even if I'm not the khagan once the year ends. Even if _you_ become khagan, I will not let such a thing happen again. There must be a better way, Sadu. Help me find it."

"We Dotharl are made for battle," Sadu shrugged. "What use is a weapon with no battles to fight? Would you have us surrender our very souls for the sake of your peace?"

"If you must fight," Sarika nodded, "then fight the strong. Seek battle with worthy opponents, and earn deaths that make your souls sing. I could suggest a few opponents, if you like."

"Hehe," Sadu grinned. "You are a strange one, khagan. Few would have spine enough to tell a Dotharl to change their ways."

"Very well," Sadu nodded. "If you would not attempt to strip us of our very identities, I would cooperate with this...compromise. On two conditions."

"Name them," Sarika nodded.

"First, that you return here and battle us again," Sadu laughed. "At least once a year, and not including the Nadaam. If you would have us limit our aggression, then you had best keep us entertained."

"Done," Sarika declared. "And the other?"

"Participate in the next Nadaam, as well," Sadu grinned. "I care not who you fight for, as long as it isn't the Dotharl. Should we win, I will still honor our agreement. And should you win...I expect you to deliver us to worthy foes."

"On that, you can rest easy," Sarika smiled. "You'll have no shortage of battle by my side."

Sadu offered her hand and Sarika took it. The two women shook firmly, silently declaring their cooperation.

"Now then," Sarika sighed, "I think I've left your comrades deaf and bleeding on the ground long enough. What say we save them before they die, hmm?"

* * *

"So the Dotharl didn't kill that other tribe out of malice," Fordola concluded. "They just...don't consider death a problem? That's a new one, I'll admit."

"I think Sadu would like you," Sarika chuckled. "Anyroad, that's the full story. I learned the truth from my grandfather. Negotiating with the Dotharl wasn't something I planned on doing, but once I found about what had happened, I just couldn't ignore it."

"A born meddler," Fordola declared, shuffling her legs. "Just part of your nature to help others, is it?"

"Those are the values I was raised by," Sarika shrugged with a smile. "And they're the ones I've stood by."

"I think I can see it now," Fordola nodded. "How you became...you. I have a question, though. Have you revealed to your parents that you know the truth?"

"Not yet," Sarika admitted. "I wasn't sure what to say. I wasn't even sure what I felt. Telling you the whole story like this...I think it's helped me sort my thoughts together."

"You should tell them," Fordola said softly. "While you still have the chance. There are things...things I wish I could tell mine. But that's no longer an option."

"I will," Sarika nodded. "Thank you, Fordola."

"It is what it is," Fordola shrugged. "Now shouldn't you be going? I'm sure you've got some disaster to avert out there, and you're not doing the world any favors by lurking in here, spinning stories to a prisoner."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Sarika smiled. "I can't say it's an absolutely certain thing yet, but...well, I've had a word with General Aldynn about your sentencing."

"What are you on about?" Fordola asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Your crimes can't be overlooked," Sarika nodded. "But you're a talented warrior with the Echo...or a facsimile of it, at least. And you've shown that you want to protect people. So, I have an offer for you. A way to work through your sentence rather than languishing here for eternity."

"I'm listening," Fordola frowned.

"A penal battalion of sorts," Sarika explained. "A special forces unit of Echo-blessed individuals that responds to summonings."

"You'd make me your pet eikon slayer?" Fordola asked. "What, so I can kill the ones you can't be bothered with?"

"I can't be everywhere at once," Sarika shrugged. "The world needs more ways to combat primals. Until we find a better solution, we must needs rely upon brave souls possessed of the Echo."

Fordola was quiet for a long while.

"I'll think about it," she said quietly.

"That's all I ask," Sarika nodded, pushing off the wall and preparing to leave. "A leash is better than a cage, I would imagine, but the choice is yours. Fair evening to you, Fordola."

Sarika's boots clicked along the floor as she left, and the slam of the heavy gaol door left Fordola alone in the dark once more.

"What use is a weapon without any battles to fight?" Fordola muttered. "A disposable eikon slayer, is it? I suppose there are worse fates..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for Fordola being part of an irregular, anti-primal unit is actually canon! You can read it along with the other official Stormblood short stories here: https://na.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodestone/special/tales_from_the_storm/sidestory_07/#sidestory_07


	29. Year 3 of the Seventh Astral Era - Epilogue

Leaning back in her chair, Sarika read through the contents of the letter once more.

_Sarika,_

_The Sons of Saint Coinach have been hard at work excavating around the Crystal Tower for any signs of this beacon your mysterious contact mentioned. Though we have yet to confirm it, there has been a possible breakthrough. Nothing you need to bother yourself with just yet, but you have my assurance that I shall contact you or Mistress Tataru the instant our suspicions are confirmed. My team are working around the clock - we know of the Scions' value to the realm. If there is aught to find, we will find it._

_-Rammbroes_

The thought of her comrades, collapsed onto the ground like puppets with their strings cut still made her shiver. If her suspicions were correct, there was really only one person she knew who had a strong connection to the Crystal Tower. Could he be this mysterious summoner of souls? He certainly seemed confident in himself.

"The better path leads you here, to me," Sarika muttered.

It seemed like he truly believed that. Perhaps...the conflict against the Empire was a point of no return. If this voice was right, then either way, the balance would tip towards cataclysm. But what could she do? Just stand back and allow the Ascians and their puppet empire to inflict atrocities upon the world? Was it truly necessary for there some minimum amount of suffering and brutality in the world?

Sighing, she tossed the letter back onto her desk. There was no use thinking about pointless things. Doing so would only make her hate this helpless waiting even more.

"I suppose I'll go pay them a visit, then," Sarika sighed, rising to her feet and gathering her things.

The air in Gridania was getting colder as winter approached, so she made sure to grab a warm sweater from the closet of her apartment, and strapped on her rapier's sheath. Whether she was in a civilian outfit or not, she never went without a weapon. Tapping her sides to double-check the contents of her pockets, she nodded in satisfaction, magically locking her apartment door and teleporting to the South Shroud's aetheryte.

* * *

Knocking on the door to her parent's home, Sarika stood back, folding her hands behind her waist and waiting. After a few moments she heard footsteps approaching, and the door swung open to reveal her father.

"Sarika!" he exclaimed. "I didn't know you were stopping by."

"Hello, father," Sarika smiled sadly. "Sorry for swinging by unannounced. Is mother home?"

"She's out hunting, but she'll be back ere long," he nodded. "Come in, come in! I was just starting on supper."

Her father ushered her inside, closing the door behind her. Sarika helped her father in the kitchen, as she had done so many times in her youth. When they were waiting for their meal to cook, they sat down at the table, making light conversation over cups of tea. After a little over an hour had passed, they heard footsteps outside, and someone knocked on the door as they let themselves in.

"I'm back," Sechen's voice cried out. "Diremites today. I took down three of them, but...oh, Sarika! You didn't say you were coming to visit!"

Dropping off her bow, Sechen rushed to embrace her daughter, who returned her affection with a soft laugh.

"Good to see you too, mother," Sarika smiled. "Can you...sit down? There's something we need to talk about."

"Of course," Sechen nodded. "What's going on, dear?"

Taking a deep breath, Sarika turned her eyes towards the window. She watched a butterfly flutter past, landing on a colorful flower, and took in a deep breath.

"I've been to the Steppe," she declared. "I found the Malaguld clan. And...I met grandfather."

"Father still lives?" Hisame muttered, eyes widening. "When did this happen, Sarika?"

"A few weeks ago," Sarika nodded. "Sorry, I know I haven't been great about keeping you up to date on my adventures, but...well. Things have been hectic."

"It's fine," Sechen nodded. "Informing us should not be your priority. No doubt there are many things you are hiding from us for our own safety, no?"

"More or less," Sarika smiled sadly. "I have enemies that might try to use you to get to me, so I can't tell you _everything_. But that's not what I'm here about. Mother, father...I know. About the reason for your exile."

"I suppose if you spoke to my father, you would learn the tale," Hisame sighed. "I suppose there's no sense trying to hide it any longer. I don't know how this 'Echo' allows you to pry into our memories and dreams, Sarika, but there's no denying that you did. Even as a little girl."

"Grandfather's story let me piece together the clues I had learned over the years," Sarika nodded. "Why did you never tell me?"

"How can a mother tell her daughter that she burnt innocent children alive?" Sechen said, shaking her head. "There is no forgiving what we did. I saw no value in ever revealing the truth to you. I feared it would make you disgusted and distrustful of us...or outright despise us."

"We never would have imagined that you would go to the Steppe," Hisame added. "And even if we did tell you...a child tends to defend and excuse their parents flaws. That...I couldn't bear even the thought of that."

"As a child, perhaps," Sarika nodded. "But I'm a woman grown, now. More than that, I'm the bloody Warrior of Light! I'm well aware of the realities of war. You still thought I couldn't be trusted with the truth?"

"It wasn't a matter of trust," Sechen sighed. "I know what you are, daughter. You've killed far more people than I have - but what we did was murder. We thought ourselves the heroes of the tale, when we were in truth, the villains. We could not forgive ourselves for our sin - how could we expect you to?"

"T'is not as if we have any way of making amends," Hisame frowned. "We can never return to the Steppe. You were our hope, Sarika. Our way of improving the world, making up in some small way for what we had stolen from it."

"I can see now why you always stressed the importance of maintaining a calm mind," Sarika smiled sadly. "Of never acting in anger, and always considering the consequences of one's actions. What you did was terrible - there's no way around it. But it wasn't an act of malice. It wasn't even really intended - you just didn't consider the reality of what you were doing. And you wanted to make sure I never made that same mistake."

"That's right," Hisame nodded. "That lesson needed to stick, above all others."

"We're sorry we lied to you," Sechen said. "We...understand if you cannot forgive us."

"What's there to forgive?" Sarika shrugged. "The crime wasn't committed against me. You recognize the error of your ways, and regret your actions. You try to make up for it in what small ways you can. I don't agree with what you did. I don't like it, nor do I like that you didn't tell me. But I can't deny that it happened."

"And that's all there is to it," Sarika concluded. "You're still my parents. I still love you. That was never going to change."

"Oh, Sarika," her mother sniffed, wrapping her arms around her daughter and pulling her in for a tight hug. "Gods, I don't know what we did to deserve you."

"Thank you for raising me so well," Sarika sniffed, wiping the dampness from her eyes on her mother's shoulder. "I wouldn't be who I am without either of you."

Hisame joined the hug, nuzzling his horns against his daughter's.

"We love you, Sarika," he said warmly. "Now and always. Never forget that."

"That goes for the two of you as well," Sarika huffed, squirming away from the group hug. "Bah! That's enough of all this...mushy family talk. Let's change the topic to something else over supper, shall we?"

"Oh?" her mother asked. "What would you like to talk about? One of your adventures, mayhaps?"

"Oh, before that," Sarika said, snapping her fingers and procuring a letter from her pocket, placing it down upon the table. "I just remembered, grandfather wrote you a letter. Read that when you feel ready. And I was planning to help him distribute his research to Eorzean organizations, and give him a linkpearl so he can communicate with his friends in the Raen valleys. I could give you the frequency, but...is there some kind of exile loophole there? Are you allowed to contact exiled people?"

"I don't know, actually," Hisame frowned. "Linkpearls were not a known thing in Othard when we left. I suppose you'd have to ask the khan. But if father saw fit to write a letter, then...perhaps there is no problem with it?"

"It would be amazing to speak with some people again," Sechen nodded.

"I'll look into it next time I visit the Steppe," Sarika shrugged. "Anyway, let's eat!"

* * *

"So then she said, what vicious beast?" Sarika beamed. "Never mind that, I'm looking for a gazebo!"

Her parents both roared with laughter at Sarika's tale, slapping the table with a force that rattled the spoons in their empty bowls.

"Ah, now that I think of those two," Sarika continued, "I'm reminded of something. Father, you never did reunite with Taghai, did you?"

"Nay," Hisame sighed, shaking his head. "I know he left Limsa Lominsa, but I have no idea where he went after that."

"It just so happens that I know a reputable inspector who owes me a favor," Sarika smiled. "I'm sure he would be happy to help locate Taghai for you. If he's out there, he can find him."

"Truly?" her father blinked. "There really is no end to the amount of strange and talented people you meet, my daughter. If you truly believe this inspector capable of tracking down a man who disappeared more than two decade ago...then I would gladly accept."

"You mentioned earlier that you had tamed a yol," her mother nodded. "That would mean you conquered Bardam's Mettle, but for what purpose?"

"Oh, that?" Sarika shrugged. "I had to, in order to fight alongside the Mol at the Nadaam."

"The Mol?" her mother repeated.

"The Nadaam?" her father gasped.

"Oh, did I not mention that?" Sarika blinked. "We won, by the way. Actually, I'm the khagan of the Steppe."

Hisame and Sechen shared a look.

"You're what?!" they shouted in unison.

* * *

"Alright, you tenacious shites, listen up," a burly Roegadyn man sighed, standing up from his seat in the back of the carriage.

A half-dozen warriors were in the carriage with him, preparing themselves for the upcoming battle in various ways. A summoner checked through the inscriptions in her grimoire, nodding to herself as the man next to her calmly sharpened his axe. Arenvald took a swig of water and listened attentively to his captain's lecture, glancing towards the flame-haired woman lying on the floor of the carriage. Fordola had her eyes closed, remaining still and quiet. She had always been like that. This was the third primal their unit would face, and while their little group wasn't exactly the cheeriest sort, at least they weren't paranoid of Fordola stabbing them in the back anymore. Fighting a god side-by-side had a strange way of sparking a sense of camaraderie in even the lonest of wolves.

"The target this time is Odin, recently sighted in the East Shroud," the captain nodded. "A fell knight atop his steed, wielding a greatsword and dark magicks. In the dozen or so sightings of him in recorded history, there has never been any indication that he tempers his foes. Seems like he just traipses about, looking for worthy challengers. If that's so, he'll likely sense our intent to do battle, so a sneak attack is out of the question. Means we won't have to bother with any diversions, at least, so we can bring our full force on him. By all accounts, he can move quickly, so you casters had best be ready to dodge at a moment's notice. And remember, the primal's the bloody sword, not the rider. Once we've won the day, smash the blade to bits, but don't touch the damned thing unless you fancy becoming the next Odin."

Fordola kept her eyes closed, listening to the captain's strategy for the battle. She focused her effort on keeping her mind calm - the Resonance was still beyond her mastery, though she had gained some degree of control over the random flashes of light and thought that burrowed their way into her skull. She still could not refuse them outright, but she could at least slow them, accepting the memory on her own terms instead of being dragged along by its invisible current. It seemed she had Sarika to thank for that...

Once the captain finished his talk, the unit finalized their own preparations in quiet contemplation - the calm before the storm. The carriage rumbled and bounced along the forest road, onward to its destination. Fordola inclined her head upwards, her mind drifting off to the forest around her. She tried to sense and feel like the Warrior of Light could, focusing on the presence of her comrades first, then a carriage beating a hasty retreat in the opposite direction, and next the animals and even the plants...

"Oi, Fordola," Arenvald called, gently kicking her leg. "Wake up. We're here."

"I wasn't asleep," Fordola scoffed, hopping to her feet.

"Trying to sense Odin before you saw him?" Arenvald asked. "No need. Look."

Pointing outside the carriage, Arenvald directed his companion's attention to a menacing horseman clad in spiked, black armor, staring at them from some fifty fulms away. Odin brought his horse to a stop, and unsheathed his massive sword, holding it up with one hand and pointing it towards the soldiers hopping out of the carriage.

A wordless challenge.

"First primal I've met with the politeness to wait for us to be ready," Arenvald shrugged, sliding out of the carriage. "Come, we're needed."

"You don't have to tell me that," Fordola sighed, following suit and joining the other soldiers outside.

Unsheathing her scimitar, Fordola pointed it towards Odin, the tip glinting in the sunlight that pierced through a gap in the canopy above. She couldn't help but smile - she could sympathise with this primal, a being that existed only for battle.

Her captain gave an order, and the soldiers formed up into their assigned formation. Twirling her curved blade around in her hand, Fordola awaited the signal to charge. When it finally came, she took off into a sprint, a fierce war cry springing from deep within her.

One blade against another - it was time to do her part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! Lordy Loo, it's finally done...
> 
> Thanks for reading all the way to the end! 75K words ended up being a lot longer than I expected, but I just kept writing until I felt it was satisfactory. 
> 
> I restricted myself from starting Shadowbringers until I finished this story. All in all it took about a month of solid writing time -I listened to the FFXIV soundtrack a heck of a lot of times while I worked. In some ways, writing is like going to the gym and exercising. I don't necessarily enjoy doing it, but I enjoy that feeling once you finish.
> 
> While this was something I did for myself, I hope you found some enjoyment in it. If you liked my interpretation of the Warrior of Light, the Steppe, Gridania, anything, feel free to let me know. Positive comments and constructive criticism make it all worth it. 
> 
> If Shadowbringers is even half as amazing as I've heard, I'll certainly have more FFXIV writing coming in the future!


End file.
